A Boy Named Ed
by BelloftheSea
Summary: Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.
1. in which Winry recieves a letter

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way his mom would occasionally look at him, like she was looking at somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

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**A.N. ** Yes, it's another one of 'those' stories. You'll see what I mean. Hopefully I'll be able to provide a different twist on it though. No pairings other than Royai though it's not a main focus (btw can someone explain that abbreviation to me? How does Roy/Hawkeye or Roy/Riza get shipped as Royai?). Mostly Parental RoyEd with some EdRiza. A bit of nostalgic EdWin but it's not romantic for obvious reasons. Brotherly fluff will come later though I'm not saying anything more on that for now. Somewhat inspired by Jordanna Morgan's wonderful story _Reawakening_. Do read it. I'm not promising anything about updates. Please review. I do like to get feedback and encouragement does help me update faster.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

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**Chapter 1, in which Winry receives a letter**

_October 17, 1926_

_Dear Ms. Rockbell_

_My name is Edward Mustang. I am eleven years old and I am a first year at Central Academy in Central City, Amestris. I live in Central City with my father, General Roy Mustang, and my mother, Lieutenant Colonel Riza Mustang. _

_I am writing you today to inquire about having automail fitted for my left leg and right arm. I know that I am young and the procedure is normally withheld until age fifteen, but I have given this much thought and consideration and I believe that I am ready to undergo the surgery. I lost both limbs as an infant and was fitted with rudimentary prosthetics at age two. These have served me well in my youth but my abilities are limited. With the greater range of motion and control that is offered by automotive prostheses, I know that I will be able to pursue a greater variety of extra-curricular activities which will benefit my growth and learning. _

_My research has shown that Rockbell Prosthetic Limb Outfitters provides some of the highest quality automail in the country. My parents have already agreed to support this endeavor and are willing to cover the costs. I understand that there will be a few years of rehabilitation and physical therapy after the surgery and have already made arrangements to continue my education from home when required. I agree to follow the guidelines for rehabilitation so as to ensure the best possible recovery. I also agree to follow a proper maintenance schedule and to appear for refitting as needed._

_I hope that you will find this proposal agreeable and I look forward to meeting you at your earliest convenience. _

_Sincerely,_

_Edward Maes Mustang_

Winry looked up from the wrinkled letter and eyed the clock anxiously.

1:17

The train was scheduled to arrive at noon, though it had likely been delayed. Then, there was also the three mile walk from the station with luggage and an eleven year old boy with a prosthetic leg. She sighed, forcing herself to be patient. But her nerves had been high since she received the letter – almost a month ago now. It had taken that long to get everything prepared and for the Mustangs to arrange time off for their trip.

Winry had busied herself with building and rebuilding new automail for the boy. She wanted it to be perfect; he deserved that much and it was the least she could do. When she wasn't working or cleaning or cooking, she found herself sitting down to re-read the letter for the hundredth time.

If it hadn't been written so distinctly by his hand, she would doubt it was the letter of a child. The wording was professional – concise and polite. But then, with Roy and Riza Mustang as parents, she could hardly be surprised. She'd been shocked to receive the letter as it was, although she'd known it would come eventually. Roy had promised that when the time was right his son would receive only the best prosthetics. Still, she assumed that Roy would contact her directly, or else Riza would. To receive a letter from Ed…

Winry blinked back her tears and refolded the paper along the worn creases before tucking it back into an old photo album on her desk. They would be here soon and it wouldn't do to let Ed see her crying; he wouldn't understand.

She stood up and moved to the kitchen so she could check on dinner. She knew the Mustangs would be hungry after their trip and Ed would need the nourishment for his surgery.

She had made stew.

She stirred the pot slowly and then replaced the lid, her thoughts drifting back to the last time such a meal had been made in her house. Granny Pinako had passed away four years ago, but even she had stopped making stew long before then. It was like some unspoken agreement. Stew was special. It was for him.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and Winry forced herself to take a deep breath, willing her heart to stop pounding.

They were here.

The walk to from the kitchen to the front door seemed to take forever. When she got there, she froze with her hand on the doorknob. She could hear voices outside and, like a blast from her past, she was twelve again and it wasn't the Mustangs standing outside her door; it was the Elrics, her neighbors, her classmates, her best friends. She could just open the door and they'd be there – Edward and Alphonse…

"This place is really nice. Hey Dad, do you think we could go exploring sometime while we're here?"

"We'll see, Ed."

"I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to see all of Resembool after you get your automail. I want you rest tonight though, so you're ready for your surgery tomorrow."

"I know, Mom."

_Mom… Dad… Ed… that's right. He's not my Ed… not anymore._ Winry wiped one hand across her eyes and did her best to smile. Then she turned the knob and opened the door.

The family that greeted her was quite the sight to behold. Roy Mustang, in civilian clothes – Winry couldn't remember ever seeing him out of uniform, Riza either – was carrying two large suitcases. He looked up as the door opened and greeted her with a nod. "Hello, Ms. Rockbell."

Riza was also carrying a suitcase and she smiled brightly at the younger woman. "Winry, it's good to see you again."

"Huh?" a small voice asked. "Oh, that's right. You guys have met before. Dad says you used to do automail repairs for another State Alchemist." The young boy looked up at Winry, expectantly. He carried a small backpack, slung casually over his left shoulder while his right arm hung limply by his side.

The body-powered prosthetic was attached to his shoulder by a special harness containing the cables which allowed for limited movement in the arm. Winry knew from studying his file, that he could easily lift the arm and open and close the artificial hand in a pincer motion. It was enough to allow him to pick up and hold small objects but it could not offer him the same fine motor skills that automail would provide.

His leg was designed with special springs that would compress and release when he shifted his weight, simulating a natural gait. It work well for getting him from place to place, but he would never be able to run on it. Automail would fix that.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his left hand into her line of sight, forcing her to focus on him and not on his prosthetics. She saw his golden eyes – free from torment or grief, his hair –cut short but still framing his face, his smile – so innocent and pure, untouched. And then she heard his voice.

"I'm Edward Mustang, but you can call me Ed. It's a pleasure to finally meet you Ms. Rockbell."

She couldn't stop the tears this time.

Collapsing to her knees before him, Winry wrapped the boy in a sudden embrace and sobbed against his shoulder. His back pack slid off of his arm and fell to the floor. He left it there, stunned and unsure of how to respond. "Um… Ms. Rockbell?"

And then his mother was there, ushering the distraught woman into the house. Ed stayed frozen in his spot, not sure what just happened. After a moment, his father cleared his throat. "Let's go inside. I'm sure they don't expect us to stand out here on the deck."

Ed nodded and picked up his bag, following his dad inside. "Dad? What was that all about? Why was she crying? Did I say something wrong?"

Roy sighed and put their suitcases down next to the stairs. He'd let Winry show them their rooms later. "No, son. It wasn't anything you said. You just reminded her of someone she used to know."

Ed frowned. He'd heard that before. It seemed to be a stock answer at this point. People were always doing weird things around him – not crying – well, mostly not crying, anyway. He hated it when people cried, especially girls – but weird stuff – a lot of staring and whispering. And when he asked why, he always got the same answer. He reminded them of someone they used to know. He'd learned not to pry beyond that though, especially not with his dad – that just made Dad act weird and quiet and… pensive. Mom was a bit odd about it too, but she at least tried to answer his questions – even if her other answers weren't any less vague than the first.

He'd pieced together enough. There was someone Mom and Dad used to work with – one of Dad's subordinates probably cause Dad's whole team seemed to be in on the secret, and now apparently Ms, Rockbell too – who had died or gone missing or something. There actually might have been two people, because sometimes Mom would say 'they' when trying to explain, not that that made any sense. But apparently Ed somehow looked like or acted like this mysterious dead person, or gone person, or not here person, and whenever he did something a certain way or said something he thought was totally casual but apparently wasn't, he got really weird reactions. It happened so often that he was rather used to it by now – at least from Mom and Dad and the team. But getting it from someone he'd only just met really threw him off.

Shaking his head, Ed didn't voice his thoughts. He didn't want to spoil their trip but making his dad act weird too. Ms. Rockbell was bad enough. Instead, he looked casually around the room he was now standing in. They were going to be staying here for a few weeks at least, so he might as well get familiar with the space.

The living room was pretty typical – a couch, a book shelf, a desk. Over the desk hung a cork board on which several photographs were pinned. Ed moved closer for a better look. Most of the photos showed Ms. Rockwell and a short, older woman or just Ms. Rockbell alone, working on automail or posing in a pretty outfit. One picture showed Ms. Rockbell with a bunch of other people, most of whom had sported automail – probably her customers. The last picture was of a little girl, a smiling couple, and the same old lady from before. Ed could only guess that the girl was Ms. Rockbell when she was young and the man and woman were her parents.

He smiled. They looked happy together.

There were also some empty spots on the corkboard – quite a few of them actually – where the lack of sun bleaching on the cork showed there had been other pictures there once, recently. He wondered what was in those pictures and why Ms. Rockbell decided to take them down.

Before he could think any further on it, however, he was distracted by the most amazing scent. His stomach growled and he realized that he hadn't eaten anything since the little sandwiches his mom had packed for the train ride. She should have known that wouldn't be enough to keep him until dinner.

He followed his nose into the kitchen where he saw his father standing over the stove, stirring something. His dad must've slipped in there while he was looking at the pictures. Sneaking closer, he inhaled deeply and hummed his satisfaction.

"Mmmm… smells delicious. What is it?"

Roy looked over his shoulder at the boy and opened his mouth to answer but someone else beat him to it.

"It's stew. My grandmother's recipe."

Ed turned to see Ms. Rockbell and his mother entering the kitchen behind him. She wasn't crying anymore, to his great relief. He smile widely. "Awesome! Whoever invented stew was genius. It has vegetables in it and everything and it still tastes good!"

Ms. Rockbell nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip. She hesitated for a moment before replying. "Mm-hmm. It has milk in it too, you know?"

"Oh, yeah? I didn't know that. Cool." Ed shrugged, still grinning. As long as she wasn't crying, everything was good. And hopefully they'd eat soon. He was starving. He didn't see Winry's stunned expression as he turned to peer at the pot on the stove.

"You… do you like milk, Ed?"

Ed blinked and shrugged again. "It's alright. Mom makes me drink it. Gotta drink lots of milk to have strong bones, right?" A thought struck him as he remembered why they were there. He turned to look at the mechanic again, suddenly excited. "I bet it'll help me heal up faster after my surgery tomorrow, too."

Winry nodded, her nerves relaxing as she fell into discussing the topic she was most comfortable with. "That's right. You'll need lots of good food to keep up you strength during recovery and afterwards too. Automail is heavier than other prosthetics. You'll need to eat right and exercise to build up your muscles."

Ed hopped a bit on his right leg, his energy and excitement revealing his age. "This is gonna be so cool! Wait till I show the kids at school. I won't just be the bookworm anymore. I'll be able to do sports and everything."

Winry laughed. "Well, it'll take a little while to get to that point and the physical therapy won't be easy. But yes, I'm sure that within three years you'll be running around and kicking balls with the other boys your age."

"Three years, huh?" Ed considered for a moment and then grinned with determination in his eyes. "I'll do it in one."

Winry struggled not to react badly to the statement. It was just too familiar. She tried to respond but her throat had stopped working. Thankfully, Roy stepped in, standing behind the boy and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Not so fast, Hotshot. We agreed to take it slow and follow the approved rehabilitation guidelines. If Ms. Rockbell says three years, then you'll take three years."

"But Dad…" Ed whined leaning his head back to look up at his father with a pleading look in his eyes.

Watching this, Winry suddenly felt all of her tension give way to laughter. Never in her life had she imagined those two standing so close without any awkwardness at all. And when Ed said those two words… she couldn't help herself. It was just so… domestic.

Beside her, Riza was also hiding a smile, though doing her best not to laugh. She'd faced plenty of moments like this; especially as Ed grew older and more similar to the young alchemist they'd once known.

Roy simply rolled his eyes at the women, but didn't move his hand. This was his son – a fact that simultaneously brought great joy and bittersweet pain – and he would never be ashamed or embarrassed by his actions towards the boy. They were a family. He'd stopped caring what people thought a long time ago. Besides, Winry didn't mean any harm. If he was honest with himself, he'd have to admit that the irony was rather hilarious, considering…

"What's so funny, Ms. Rockbell?" Ed asked, frowning and crossing his arms. It was a bit of an awkward move with the prosthetic but he'd gotten pretty good at it over the years – just another thing he looked forward to doing easily with automail.

Winry took a deep breath to calm herself and smiled. "Nothing. I'm sorry. And please, Ed, call me Winry." She looked up at the older man who was smirking behind his son. "You too, Roy. I think we've known each other long enough to skip the formalities."

Roy nodded. "Of course, Winry."

Ed was still annoyed at being laughed at but he rolled his eyes and chalked it up to grownups acting weird again – at least she wasn't crying this time. "Anyway, back to the automail. Will it really take three whole years to do the rehabilitation, Ms. Roc – I mean, Winry?"

Winry offered a smile of conciliation. "Well, three years is the average. The implants need time to heal and your muscles will need to strengthen. Since you're so young and still growing, there will be some extra stress on your bones. Eating well will certainly help, as will exercise so long as you don't push yourself too hard and overdo it. If you follow all of the rules and don't put any unnecessary strain on your ports, you may be able to complete the rehabilitation in two years. One year would be pushing it, unless you'd like to be spitting blood, as Granny Pinako used to say."

Ed sighed heavily, but nodded. "Two years then." He looked up and met Winry's eyes, then those of his mother and father. That same fire of determination was back and Winry couldn't help but feel a painful tug in her chest at the sight.

The boy smirked – a look that was less Ed and more Roy, Winry noted – and lifted both arms in an exaggerated fist pump. "What are we waiting for? Tomorrow is way too far away. Let's get started tonight!"

It was Riza's turn to step forward. "Edward," she was the only one who ever called him by his full name when he wasn't in trouble. "We just got off the train a few hours ago. You need to rest before the surgery."

"But I'm not tired at all. I slept on the train." Ed argued petulantly.

Winry shook her head. "No, your mother is right, Ed. Even if you slept the whole way to Resembool, and you don't feel tired, your body will still be feeling the stress of travel. You don't need any extra stress before the operation. It could cause complications. Besides, my assistant won't be here until tomorrow and I can't do the procedure without him." That was true. After Pinako died, Winry had struggled to manage the shop on her own. She did okay for awhile on just repairs, until a new customer came to be fitted for the first time. Winry had then admitted defeat and made a trip down to Rush Valley to find herself an apprentice.

Jason was actually one of her former customers in Rush Valley. He had an automail foot and had been studying to become a doctor but he also loved machinery and when Winry came looking, he jumped at the chance. He turned out to be a great assistant, especially during surgery because of background in medicine.

Unfortunately, this information didn't seem to convince Ed that waiting another day was necessary. She could practically see the gears working in his head, trying to come up with a loophole and she recognized that attitude well enough to know that she'd have to distract him quickly to keep him from arguing further. Luckily, she knew the perfect distraction.

Smirking, she walked over to the cupboard and pulled out four bowls. "Besides, you'll want to eat a lot tonight to prepare your body for tomorrow. After all, you won't be able to eat anything until after the surgery."

Ed blinked and Winry knew she'd caught him – hook, line, and sinker. "Wait, what? What do you mean I can't eat anything?"

Winry filled up the bowls one-by-one and handed them to Roy to place on the table. "You heard me, Ed. Your stomach needs to be mostly empty tomorrow to keep you from getting sick during the surgery. The medication and the pain have a tendency to turn a patient's stomach and we really don't need that kind of mess during an operation."

Ed blanched. "B-but… not anything?!"

"Not one bite, Shrimp." Roy replied with a grin.

Winry braced herself for the rant she knew was coming off of that remark, but nothing happened. Ed groaned dramatically and lowered himself into a chair while clutching his stomach. "I'm gonna die of starvation."

Roy rolled his eyes and set the last bowl down in front of the boy before taking his own seat behind another bowl. "You're not gonna die, Ed. That's why we're eating now. There's plenty of stew and I think I saw an apple pie in the ice box."

Winry gasped as she and Riza both sat down as well. "That was supposed to be a surprise!"

Ed looked up, excited at the thought of pie – and food in general. "A surprise for me? Thanks, Ms. Winry!"

Winry smiled. "You're welcome, Ed. I hope you enjoy it."

Ed grinned. "Oh, I will and you can bet I'll be eating three servings of this stew as well. I need to stock up now if I can't eat tomorrow."

Riza chuckled and picked up her spoon. "We might as well get started then." Looking up she noted that her son had already begun, as had her husband – it was always a competition between those two.

Ed took a few bites before he paused, chewing slowly. He swallowed and looked up at his father, across the table. "Hey, Dad?"

Roy wiped his mouth on his napkin and met his son's gaze. "Yes, Ed?"

The boy smirked. "Don't call me shrimp, old man."

Winry laughed out loud. So much was different… but some things would never change.


	2. in which Roy become overly concerned

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

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**A.N. ** I'm trying to find the right balance for Ed. Sometimes he seems too OOC to me as I write him but then I think about his situation and argue that he would be OOC, at least to the Ed we're used to. In some ways he's still the same – in other's he's somewhat different. The problem is in finding the right balance – how much is too much in one way or the other? I want to show both sides of the coin but not too much of either.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

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**Chapter 2, in which Roy becomes overly concerned**

"_Brother?"_

_I'm here. Where are you?_

"_Brother!"_

_Wait!_

"_You'd be lost without me, alchemy freak."_

_Winry?_

"_Big brother… little brother…"_

"_My little geniuses, you make me so proud!"_

"_Yo! Ed, my boy!"_

"_Hello, my stupid pupil."_

_Huh? I don't understand. Who are…?_

"_Keep moving, whatever it takes. Even if the way ahead lies through a river of mud."_

_Dad..._

"_What do you think you're doing, Fullmetal?"_

"_Hey, Chief!"_

"_Fullmetal!"_

_Stop… stop it…_

"_Keep moving, whatever it takes"_

"_Brother…"_

One month had passed since the surgery.

One month – and he'd had the same dream every night since then. He could never remember very much and it probably wasn't exactly the same every time. But the general idea was always the same – people, lots of people. Some he recognized and some he didn't, but most seemed to be somehow familiar at least – he just couldn't place them. They all spoke to him at once, or not at all, or sometimes through a fog of hazy understanding. Nothing really made any sense. He clung to bits of familiar phrases, voices he knew well, or thought he should know. He tried to bring order to the chaos – yelling, sometimes screaming for them to stop. And then it would gradually drift away, as wakefulness called to his mind.

At first he simply let it go, not caring much for the absurdities of dreams when far more pressing matters existed in the waking world. His automail ports had been attached without a hitch but the procedure left him sore and exhausted. For the next few days, he attributed the continued dreams to the pain medications which often kept him in a semi-conscious state.

A week passed and his meds were decreased. He assumed that the dreams would go away but instead they increased in both intensity and lucidity. He didn't tell anyone. They were just dreams and he couldn't remember enough of them to make them seem important.

He focused his energies on healing and on learning to work his newly attached limbs. Winry had decided to use what she called "northern automail" which was made out of carbon fiber and alloys, instead of steel, because it was lighter and would be less of a hindrance to his growth. There was a lot of pain that went along with the therapy – he was using nerves that had been mostly inert since before he could remember. Winry had been forced to stimulate them with mild electric shocks simply to make him aware of their presence. Then he had to teach his brain how to stimulate those nerves to make his automail respond appropriately. It was exhausting and Ed spent many evenings curled up between his parents on the couch in Winry's living room.

But he didn't complain. This is what he wanted.

Through it all, the dreams continued. By the third week, Ed decided they might be worth paying attention to. Still, it was all he could do to cling to the last remnants of memory as the dream faded each morning. He made a conscious decision each night, to find one thing to focus on – one thing that he could carry with him into the real world. If he could do that, maybe he could start to piece together a puzzle that would make sense of the whole thing.

He only succeeded half the time.

He'd started a list, which he kept in his room, of all the details he was able to pull from the dream. It wasn't very long.

_Dad is there a lot_

_Mom is there sometimes_

_Winry too_

_I have automail_

_I am sometimes running_

"_Brother"_

They were back in Central now, having arrived the day before. Ed sat in the back seat of his father's car, leaning against the window. He stared at the scenery flashing by but didn't really see any of it. In his mind, he was running through the list again, searching for some sort of significance or connection. There wasn't any that he could tell.

That his parents appeared in the dream was inconsequential. They were his parents. It made sense for them to be featured. Winry had played a significant role in his life for the past month so he wasn't all that surprised when she came up in the dream either. The automail was also obvious although, in the dream, he had full control over it already.

He could run – that did stand out. He'd never run anywhere in his life and, while he'd often imagined doing so and couldn't wait till he could try out his automail on the track, he didn't really have any experience from which his subconscious mind could draw the sensation. It felt so real, too – the wind rushing against his face and through his hair, his arms pumping in time with the steady rhythm of his feet, his heart beating fast, his breath panting… exhilarating. He longed to experience it for real.

Then there was that word… "Brother." He heard it often – always the same voice, though inflected in a hundred different ways, and never accompanied by a vision. He had no idea who was meant to be speaking or why they were saying that word, over and over again. Were they addressing him or just calling in general? He didn't have a brother so it couldn't really be meant for him… or could it?

Ed groaned and allowed his temple to knock against the glass, drawing his father's attention from the front passenger seat.

"Alright, Ed?" Roy asked, his eyes narrowed in concern. "Are you in pain? We don't have to do this today, you know."

Ed rolled his eyes before sitting up straighter and plastering a smile on his face. "I'm fine, Dad. Nothing hurts more than the usual aches. I'm used to those now. Besides, I've already missed over a month of classes and there's only so much I can do from home. I want to get back."

Having completed the initial round of therapy without any setbacks, Winry had given Ed the go ahead to return to Central – and school – so long as he agreed to take it easy and follow his rehabilitation schedule to the letter. This meant he was required to sit more often than standing, complete a series of mobility exercises at set times throughout the day, and to keep most of his weight off the leg for now by using a crutch. He hated the crutch – it hurt his arm and made him clumsier than he already was in his new limbs – but the ports were still healing and could not yet bear his full weight for extended periods of time – extended meaning more than thirty seconds. It was going to make things awkward for awhile at school, but he wasn't going to let that stand in his way.

He wanted to go to school. He enjoyed all of his academic classes – always had. His classmates thought he was crazy but he genuinely liked learning. He learned to read at an early age and started devouring every book he could get his hands on. He remembered things easily, too. It wasn't a photographic memory or anything like that; he was just really good at making connections between bits of information and calling upon those connections at will.

Granted, this meant he was often way ahead of his peers. His teachers noticed and had many times recommended that he be moved into more advanced classes. His parents argued that they wanted Ed to grow up among his own peer group. He was very intelligent, but that didn't mean he needed to grow up at anything but his own pace. Ed agreed with their assessment. He was happy where he was. Many of the teachers offered him extra assignments to challenge his critical thinking and while the rest of the class struggled through concepts he'd already grasped, he took the time to ponder the subject more deeply and begin developing his own theories.

He wasn't exceptional in all his subjects of course. Math and science were his strongest and he also enjoyed history. Literature and language bored him unless they were significant to one of the other classes, but he still made excellent scores on all of his tests. His handwriting was atrocious though – a slanted conglomeration of printed and cursive letters which no teacher had been able to correct.

And then, of course, there was alchemy. Although it wasn't a subject actually offered in school, he had taken it upon himself as a self study. The science had always fascinated him – his dad was the Flame Alchemist after all – and he'd taken to his father's alchemy books faster than anything else.

His parents had been hesitant at first, to let him study it at such a young age. But seeing his passion and talent, they'd relented under the strict rule that he would never attempt any transmutation without his father's supervision – a rule he'd never thought to disobey mainly because it was something he and his dad could always do together. It was something they shared and Ed treasured the hours they spent together in his study, mostly reading and discussing theories. Every transmutation they did together was special and he kept a collection of their creations on a shelf in his room.

He knew what he wanted to be when he grew up – a State Alchemist. It was all he'd ever wanted and he couldn't wait until he was old enough to take the test. Oh, his parents tried to have him explore other options as well. They introduced him to many different careers and some were certainly interesting – but they weren't alchemy. They also suggested that he look into civilian alchemy instead of focusing on the military but – well he'd grown up in the military; his parents were both officers. It just seemed to make sense to follow in their footsteps. Ed knew where he was going and nothing was going to stand in his way. Now that he had automail, he was just that much closer to his goal.

"Do you think anyone will miss Buster and Mr. Stinky?" his father asked in a teasing tone.

Ed blinked then groaned again, this time in exasperation. "Ugh, Dad. I haven't called them that since I was five. I don't name my prosthetics anymore."

It hadn't even been his idea to begin with; it was a teacher's. He'd never been self-conscious of his prosthetics before starting school but, on his first day in the primary classroom, he'd nervously faced down the stares of twenty curious and frightened children. His teacher suggested that he show them there was nothing to be afraid of by introducing his prosthetics to the class – giving them names and allowing the other children to express their curiosity. "Buster" was his helping hand and "Mr. Stinky" was his fabulous foot.

It had helped some. Most of the kids accepted his differences within a few days and it became normal for them to see him hobbling around the classroom and awkwardly holding objects. Of course, it didn't do much to stop the teasing. There were always bullies – idiots who thought they could make themselves better by putting others down. Ed dealt with them the best he could and his parents were there to support him when the teasing became too much. But he was strong and he was smart and he learned how to turn insults around and how to twist words so that his attackers became confused. Most of the time he came out on top – verbally at least – and once he finished his rehabilitation he knew no one would bully him physically anymore. He wouldn't even have to do anything. Most kids already knew how strong automail could be. Almost everyone knew someone or was related to someone with automail. There wouldn't be any stupid nicknames or introductions this time around. Automail spoke for itself. Automail was cool.

Nevertheless, Roy laughed at his surly response. "Are you sure? I bet we could come up with some good names for your automail."

Ed thought for a moment, then looked down at the small engraving on his automail arm – Winry's maker's mark. He grinned. "How about I just say it's Rockbell automail . That'll get plenty of attention."

Roy smirked. "That it will. How about Rocky and Bella, then? Of course you'd have to decide which one to call Bella – it is a girl's name after all."

"I'm not naming my arm or leg after a girl, Dad!"

"Roy, stop teasing your son." Riza said as she pulled the car to a stop in front of Central Academy. "We're here."

It was early yet. Most students wouldn't be dropped off for another half an hour, but Ed wanted to check in with his teachers and pick up any assignments he'd missed before classes started. Plus, it'd be easier to already be settled in class before the questions started about his automail.

Roy stepped out of the car and moved around to open Ed's door while the boy gathered his backpack and his crutch. The backpack was much easier to manage now that he had two full shoulders to rest it on. It was too awkward to take it on and off with his old prosthetic so he'd mostly settled for slinging it over his one flesh arm.

Once he had his things together, Ed allowed his father to help him out of the car. It was still awkward, maneuvering with his leg and the crutch didn't really help with that. He couldn't wait to finish healing enough to stand without it. Until then, he wouldn't turn away his father's assistance. Roy knew just how to give him the support he needed without making him feel like an invalid – unless he was in papa bear mode, but you didn't want to see him in papa bear mode.

Once Ed was steady on his feet – and his crutch – Roy let the boy go and reached out to ruffle his hair instead. "You need a haircut, kid."

Ed ducked out of the way of the offending hand and gingerly reached up with his automail to 'fix' his hair. It really didn't help much, but he didn't want to risk smacking himself with the hard limb and his real hand was currently occupied by the crutch. Thankfully, his mother came over to straighten the mess and Ed let her finger-comb his hair for a moment while he considered the length. It was pretty long. He'd been due for a cut for a while now but it got put on hold during their trip to Resembool. Now that they were back he supposed he should make a trip to the barber.

As his mom finished her work and stepped back, Ed gave his head a toss. There was something about the way his hair felt on top of his head right now – it was surprisingly comfortable at this length and he surprised himself by thinking that he wouldn't mind if it was even longer.

"I don't know." He said after a moment. "I kind of like it long. Maybe I'll grow it out." He looked at his dad, expecting an argument to the idea, but the older man only gave him a strange look and didn't respond.

That was a new thing – that look. His dad got other weird looks sometimes but this one in particular had started showing up after Ed's surgery. The other looks were thoughtful, almost nostalgic at times, but this one… it was like all of that with a wince – like whatever thought had just crossed his mind was somehow painful. Ed didn't know what to make of it but he wasn't sure he wanted to know, so he didn't ask.

He stood awkwardly for a moment and then shrugged and adjusted the front of his blazer. Another benefit of the new automail – his uniform fit better than it had with his old prosthetics, no weird harnesses to maneuver around. Layers had always been a problem before. He couldn't move his cable-controlled arm very well when it was bundled under a dress shirt, vest, and blazer. Add a jacket when it got cold and he could forget trying to move it at all. That wasn't a problem anymore and with winter slowly setting in – very slowly; it was already December and they'd yet to have a day below 10 degrees Celsius – he knew he'd be grateful for his new upgrades. For now he was comfortable in the crisp morning air with just his blazer for warmth. It also helped that, lacking two flesh and blood limbs, he had fewer extremities for his body to try and keep warm. "Well, I'm all set. I'd better get going if I'm gonna check in with all my teachers before class starts."

Roy took a moment to respond, shaking off his thoughts and warily eyeing the path through the courtyard in front of the school. "We've got a bit of time, ourselves. We can walk with you if you'd like." He offered casually. Riza shot him a look.

Ed laughed and shook his head. "No, thanks, Dad. I know you're just trying to put off the paperwork a little while longer. Mom's gonna make you do it anyway so you might as well get started." He smiled, hopefully. "Maybe you can finish early and won't have to bring anything home with you. Then we can work on that transmutation we were talking about back in Resembool – the glass bending one? You did promise we'd try it out."

Eleven years ago, Roy never would have imagined that this boy would be able to pull off the pleading puppy dog look so well – or that he, the Flame Alchemist, would be so quick to cave to those big golden eyes. But the conniving little kid had had him wrapped around his tiny fingers before he could even crawl and Roy had been forced to admit that he'd lost to a baby.

Now, he smiled, remembering the discussion they'd had in Resembool after a particularly difficult therapy session. Ed had been curled against his father's side, trying to ignore the pain in his leg while Roy did his best to distract him. The conversation – originally an embellished retelling of one of Roy's more daring adventures – had turned into a debate about alchemy after a glass was knocked off of the coffee table and shattered into hundreds of pieces. Despite Winry's protests that it wasn't a big deal, the boys had insisted on fixing it. Glass was tricky though, its fragile nature lending to its difficulty in transmutation despite its simple composition. And Ed wasn't satisfied with returning the glass to its former, utilitarian state. He wanted to reshape it into something fancy – a gift for Winry in thanks for all she'd done. Roy had argued that such changes would weaken the structural integrity of the glass and it would likely shatter all over again just from the force of the transmutation.

In the end, they never did make a new glass. Riza eventually grew tired of seeing the broken shards on the living room floor and cleaned them up. But the debate had continued well into the night before the boys finally settled on a new theory – that flame alchemy could be used during the transmutation of glass to super heat the material, allowing for greater manipulation without weakening the overall structure. It was an experiment that would have to wait until they got home however. Riza had always insisted that any new theories Ed wanted to test would be done in the relatively safe, controlled environment of Roy's lab. Still, they were both looking forward to testing it out together. Ed planned to turn the test into something of an art project – it was his job to manipulate the glass while Roy controlled the flames. He wanted to see just how detailed he could make his 'masterpiece.'

It had been several months since they'd been able to work on a project like this together and Roy wasn't about to pass up the chance to spend some more quality time with his son. "I'll see what I can do."He replied with a grin. Then he cringed at the thought of all the paperwork waiting on his desk at work.

"Alright. You two can talk alchemy later." Riza smiled at her boys and placed a kiss on Ed's forehead. "Have a good day, okay?"

Ed rolled his eyes but didn't begrudge his mother the gesture of affection. He smiled up at her. "I will. Love you, Mom." Then he turned to his father and grinned. "You too, Dad. I'll see you this afternoon, okay?"

"Right." Roy nodded, and then frowned. "Ed?"

"Yeah?"

"Just… take it easy today, alright? Don't overdo it."

Ed just shook his head and turned to hobble away on his crutch. "I know, Dad. Quit worrying. Sheesh, you'd think it was my first day of grade school or something." His voice trailed off into a mutter as he moved further away.

Roy stared after the boy for a moment and then groaned, leaning heavily against the car. "Ugh! Why is he doing this to me?"

Riza eyed her husband skeptically. "Doing what?"

"It was never a problem before, not really." Roy spoke as though he was talking to himself. "Sometimes he'd do or say something, sure but then he'd go back to being little Ed and everything would be fine. Now it's every time I look at him. First the automail, now the long hair – I swear he's doing it on purpose."

His wife looked at him sharply as she understood what he wasn't saying. "Don't be ridiculous, Roy. He has no idea – "

"Of course not." The General cut her off. "Not consciously anyway. Sub-consciously though?" he groaned again. "Fullmetal's taunting me as payback for years of torment." He lifted his eyes again to stare at the retreating back of his son. Short, golden hair swaying over a dark blue, uniform blazer was hardly reminiscent of a long braid on a bright red coat. From this angle he could almost pretend that the boy really was just Ed Mustang… just his son.

And from this angle he could also watch, horrified as the boy took a tumble down the steps to a lower part of the courtyard.

"Fullmetal!"

His instincts kicked in and he ran. He arrived at the top of the steps just in time to see Ed pulling himself up to sit on the lowest stair. He turned to grin sheepishly up at his father. "I'm okay." Then he frowned, curiously. "What did you just call me?"

Roy froze, suddenly realizing what had come out of his mouth during his panicked sprint. He cursed inwardly at his own stupidity, then brushed it aside and ignored the question, moving quickly to crouch by his son. "Never mind that. Are you hurt? Is anything broken?"

"What? No. Dad, I'm fine. I just tripped, that's all. No big deal." But Roy didn't seem to be listening as he proceeded to inspect the boy for injuries.

"Did you hit your head? What about your automail? Does anything seem out of alignment? Is it moving properly?"

And then Ed was pushing his father away, something he couldn't recall ever doing before. "Dad! Knock it off! I already told you. I'm fine!" He stood up and struggled to get the crutch in place before hobbling a few feet away, just to get some personal space. "What's gotten into you? I fell down all the time with my old prosthetics. You've never acted like this before."

"You're old prosthetics didn't require invasive surgery." Roy countered quickly, although he knew that excuse sounded as lame as it was. Ed clearly wasn't buying it and he gave his father a skeptical look.

"Okay, but like I said, I'm fine." Ed turned to look at the school, then back at his father. The older man was acting really strange and it was putting the boy on edge. He looked about warily. Both of his parents had taught him to always be aware of his surroundings – of potential threats and dangers as well as little details which could come in handy later. He'd yet to put those skills to any real use but he knew he could do it if he needed to.

Now he opened up those senses and tried to figure out if there was some sort of outside factor that was making his father jumpy today. Finding nothing out of sorts, he looked to his father for guidance. "What's wrong, Dad? What is it?"

Roy sighed, noticing how his son had dropped into a defensive posture and knowing that his own actions were the cause. He focused inward and willed his nerves to settle – he needed to relax. He was getting worked up over nothing. "Nothing." He said aloud, not sure if he was replying to his son or reaffirming his own thoughts. He followed up on the former. "Nothing's wrong, Ed. I'm just…" He shook his head. "Let's just go home. We can try again tomorrow."

Ed frowned. "If nothing's wrong…"He said slowly. "Then why do you want me to go home?" Now he was really nervous and the adrenaline was starting to mess with his ports. He shifted his weight and rolled his shoulder to alleviate the strange tingling sensation. Winry had warned that different chemical reactions in body could cause something like this. It wasn't painful – just weird and it would take some getting used to. Unfortunately, his father noticed the motion.

"You are hurt!"

"No, I'm not! I just – "

"Don't – "

"Roy."

Ed cheered mentally when his Mom stepped in to save the day. If there was one person who could be counted on to keep a clear head in any situation, it was the Hawk's Eye.

Roy, on the other hand, froze at his wife's tone. It wasn't obvious to someone who hadn't known her as long as he had, but Riza was mad – and not at their son either. Ed was blissfully oblivious to his mother's fury. The tension seemed to melt off of him at his mother's calming touch and Roy suddenly felt useless – and stupid. He felt really stupid.

Riza looked her son in the eye. "Are you okay, Ed?" she asked

Ed nodded, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on hers. "Yes, Mom. I'm fine." And that was all it took. Riza smiled gently and nodded before brushing some dust off of his jacket.

"Alright, then. Ignore your father. He's having an off day. Everything is fine."

Ed glanced at his father worriedly, but nodded again. "Okay."

"You'd better get going then."

"Yeah." Ed smiled and turned to leave. Whatever was wrong with his dad, he knew that his mom would take care of him. She'd had his back for almost twenty years now, though they'd only been married for eight. Ed knew they were meant to be together always and he'd proudly carried the rings down the aisle at their wedding when he was three. He couldn't ask for a better mother – or a better wife for his dad.

"What if he falls down again?" Ed heard his father protest from behind him. Now that was a question he could answer.

"I'll pick myself up again!"He called over his shoulder. "And I'll keep moving forward, no matter what!"

Roy watched the boy leave, for real this time, and felt a twist in his heart at his parting words. The boy couldn't know – he couldn't – that he was throwing Roy's own words right back at him. The guilt he'd been stifling for almost a month; that had lain dormant for more than eleven years, came rushing back at full strength. It was his fault…

"General."

He winced. They still used their ranks while on duty or within earshot of other members of the military, but in private… Riza only called him General when he was in trouble.

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel?" He answered in kind.

"You called him Fullmetal."

Roy sighed heavily. "I know."

* * *

**A.N. **I don't normally leave ending authors notes but this chapter was a pain to write. It really shouldn't have been. Roy and Ed just kept butting in with their own random tangents about everything. I'm still not sure where the whole glass thing came from – but I am going to use it, now that it's there. I have a plan.

Anyway, there was originally going to be this long conversation between Riza and Roy at the end, with her berating him for his current frame of mind regarding Ed. It was also going to give a few more hints about what happened to our favorite alchemist. But as I started to write it, I realized that those two wouldn't actually have that conversation because, well, because it's them. Most of their relationship takes place in what isn't said between them. And I think, in the end, her last words there pretty much summed up everything that needed to be said.

Anyway, please review!


	3. in which Ed learns how to dance

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** I want to thank everyone who has been leaving me reviews. They have been very encouraging. I don't generally have time to reply to every review I get, although if you have a specific comment or question that I feel needs to be answered I will probably send you a message. If a question is asked by several different people, I will reply here.

For example: "Where's Alphonse?" seems to be a popular question. Unfortunately, I'm not saying anything at this point and it will be awhile before I can give you an answer to that one. I can only beg your patience. I miss him, too.

I do want to give a shout out to Krilavti who answered my question about Royai. That… actually makes a lot of sense. I do enjoy phonetics and puns though I'm curious as to how that one got started and became so prevalent.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

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**Chapter 3, in which Ed learns how to dance**

Ed's first day back at school went more or less the way he expected it to. After checking in with all of his teachers he headed towards his first class, leaning heavily on his crutch as the long walk through the school had been a bit more exercise than he was ready for. He was ready to sit down for awhile.

Along the way, he met up with his best friends, Kale Turing and Brianna Knox, who were eager to welcome him and inquire about his surgery. Kale and Bri were the only students he'd told about the exact purpose of trip – the rest would find out soon enough.

"It's so cool!" Kale exclaimed as they sat down in their first class, history. "Can you move all of the fingers independently?

Ed sighed, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his leg to ease the tension; he was grateful to be sitting down. "Sure can! Check it out."He held up his automail arm and wiggled his fingers to demonstrate. "My grip isn't too great yet and I don't have a lot of the finer movements down, but Winry says I could probably learn how to play piano if I wanted to, once my therapy is finished."

"Do you want to?" Bri asked.

Ed shrugged. "Mom wants me to, I think. She said something about wishing there was a musician in the family. But I dunno if I'll ever get around to it. Music is alright – I've never really thought about playing though."

"Still, it's amazing what they can do with automail these days." Kale grabbed Ed's arm and pushed the sleeve back so he could get a better look. "This design is incredible. It's northern automail, right? That's supposed be lighter than the steel models."

"Get off of me, Kale!" Ed pushed his friend back. "Sheesh, you're such a gearhead. You're as bad a Winry." It was true. Kale loved machines – not just automail either. He liked to tinker with just about anything and he had some crazy ideas about developing what he liked to call a "computing machine" that could do the mathematical equations faster than a hundred desk clerks. It was just an idea at this point though.

"Who's Winry?" Bri sat down at the desk in front of Ed but turned around to face him, leaning her elbows on the back of her chair. "You mentioned her before."

"Oh, right. She's my mechanic. Winry Rockbell."

"You have Rockbell automail!?"

"Your mechanic's a girl?"

The questions came almost simultaneously and Ed looked back and forth between his two friends. "Um… yeah. To both."

Their conversation was cut short however, as the rest of the class began to file into the room and one particularly unwelcome voice decided to cut in. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the gimp?"

Ed rolled his eyes and turned to face his nemesis. Lester Hakuro had been in his class since grade school and had always found it necessary to rag on Ed for one thing or another – if it wasn't his prosthetics then it was status as a bookworm or teacher's pet. Les insisted that the only reason Ed was top of his class was because of who his parents were, as though his Dad had paid off the teachers or something. It had something to do with an old dispute between their fathers – General Hakuro had never been happy with Roy Mustang's quick rise through the ranks. Ed thought that was a stupid reason for Les to hate him but there wasn't much he could do about it.

"What's with the crutch, Mustang? Did you break Mr. Stinky?" Les taunted.

Ed bit back a groan. _This is why I stopped using the nicknames, Dad_, he thought to himself. Only Les Hakuro would keep using the same taunts for six years in a row. He really needed some new material.

Despite his irritation, Ed plastered a smirk on his face and shrugged nonchalantly. With the rest of the class eagerly watching the exchange – like it was a spectator sport or something – Ed couldn't resist using the opportunity to show off a little.

"Nope. Just got some new upgrades, that's all." He reached down with both hands and rolled up the cuff of his pants on his left leg. This did two things – it revealed his new leg and it also demonstrated the dexterity he now had with his right hand. His left hand still did most of the work, of course, but the movement at least was apparent.

The reaction was instantaneous and exactly what he expected. A chorus of amazed gasps seemed to echo through the classroom, followed by several loud exclaimations.

"Is that automail?"

"No way!"

"That's awesome, Ed!"

"Aren't you too young for automail?"

Ed sat back with a grin and answered the last question. "My parents agreed that I was ready. I didn't want to wait till I turn fifteen." Several more questions came after that – Did it hurt? How long would the rehab take? What kind of automail was it? – and Ed answered them as best he could.

"You're still a gimp." Les commented brusquely during a break in the conversation but no one paid him any attention. Ed was satisfied that he'd been right – automail really did speak for itself.

Eventually, the teacher entered, ending all conversation and starting with a lecture on the founding of the State Alchemist program to which Ed listened eagerly.

The rest of the day carried on in much the same way – a lot of questions from a lot of people. Even the upperclassmen heard about Ed's new limbs and several approached him during lunch and break periods. One sixth year boy, named Martin Frisby, sat with him all through lunch and joked about starting an automail club. Martin had lost his right foot in an accident involving a tractor on his uncle's farm three years ago. The initial injury had been severe enough to keep Martin out of school for several months. He'd ended up taking the rest of the year off for automail surgery and the beginnings of rehab, so he was actually a year older than most in his year. Still, he was a friendly guy and liked having someone else at the school he could compare his experience with.

There was some discomfort and a little bit of pain from his leg when he walked too much, but for the most part Ed felt good. He took it easy and enjoyed the extra attention he was getting – it wasn't the pitying kind of attention either. Upper class girls, who used to dote on him at times and treat him like a cute little boy who needed help, now gave him looks of admiration and some of the second and third year girls kept whispering conspiratorially with slight blushes on their cheeks. Meanwhile, he seemed to have risen greatly in the ranks of popularity among the boys from all years.

He didn't expect it to last of course. In fact, he hoped it didn't. The attention was alright for a day or two but if it lasted any longer than that, Ed was going to hole up in the library until they forgot about him again. He wasn't anti-social really; he just preferred to have some quiet time to himself. He liked his books and intellectual conversation with close friends. He didn't have the time or energy to be constantly dragged into the petty conversations of pre-teens and teenagers. He was more mature than most of the kids his age – at least he thought so – and he wanted to stay focused on important things, like alchemy.

By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day, Ed had forgotten all about his father's strange behavior that morning and was eagerly looking forward to trying out their new theory when he got home. He had some homework to do of course, but it wouldn't take too long and hopefully his dad would have all of his work done as well so they could devote the evening to doing what they both enjoyed the most.

The moment he stepped outside, however, those plans changed. Sometime in the hours between lunch and the final bell, winter had decided to finally show up in Central. It was cold – definitely below zero – and the wind had picked up significantly. Ed shivered as he hobbled across the courtyard in only his blazer. Luckily it hadn't decided to snow. He could see his parent's car waiting for him by the curb and he picked up his pace to reach the relatively warmer interior of the vehicle faster.

He had to stop halfway there when the still-tender muscles around his automail ports began to ache. It wasn't the dull pain that had been bothering his off and on throughout the day either. This was sharper, biting. He winced and rubbed at his leg to sooth the feeling.

"You okay, Ed?" Kale asked, stopping beside him in concern. Bri stopped as well and the three friends stood shivering in the cold courtyard without jackets.

Ed nodded and straitened himself out. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It's just the cold bothering my nerves. Winry said this might happen during the first year or so." He was used to his stumps being affected by bad weather – the rain usually caused some minor aches – but this reaction to the cold was new. He could only be glad that, with northern automail, he wouldn't have to worry about the joints freezing up or getting frostbite – not that it really ever got cold enough in Central for that to happen.

"Come on. My mom's car is right there. I'm sure we can give you both a ride home. It'd be crazy to walk home in this without coats. " He smiled at his friends and took a step forward but was forced to stop again as his leg gave another sharp twinge.

With his eyes shut tight against the pain, he didn't notice his father approaching until the familiar weight of Mustang's military jacket settled across his shoulders. He looked up in surprise and Roy beckoned him onward with a nod of his head. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Ed smiled. This was the kind of support he'd come to rely on – solid and steady, always there when he needed him, providing the confidence and security he needed to keep moving whenever things got tough.

It had been a long time since he'd worn his dad's jacket – most often he'd worn it while playing pretend when he was much younger – but with the sudden warmth and his father's comforting scent surrounding him, Ed was able to forget push aside his pain and trudge forward, making it into the car with his two best friends climbing in beside him.

"I guess it's a good day for carpool." Riza commented as she waited for Roy to move around the car and climb in the passenger seat.

"If you don't mind, Ms. Riza." Bri said politely. The Lieutenant Colonel had never insisted on Ed friends calling her by rank – they weren't in the military after all – and Mrs. Mustang had never really suited her. 'Ms. Riza' had been a happy compromise – both respectful and familiar. To Kale and Bri especially, whom Ed had known since grade school, she felt like an aunt.

Roy, on the other hand, was always 'General,' similar to how he'd once been 'Colonel' to two reckless young alchemists. It was almost a term of endearment coming from these two though and Ed sometimes picked it up as well, when they were around. Most of the time, though, Ed just called him Dad and they both preferred it that way.

"Not at all." Riza answered.

After dropping Kale and Bri at their respective houses, the Mustang family returned to their home as well. Unfortunately, it hadn't been that much warmer inside the car than it was outside. With the combined body heat of five people and a few quick flashes of heat provided by the Flame Alchemist, they'd managed to keep most of the cold at bay, but Ed was still shivering in the back seat by the time they got home.

"Where did this come from?"Roy grumbled as he arranged a few logs in the fire place. With a quick snap he had a fire roaring merrily in the hearth. "It was practically warm out this morning."

"Well, it is December."Riza replied as she busied herself in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for the family. She'd start on dinner once they were warm. "It was bound to get cold sometime."

"Yes, but this was rather sudden, don't you think?" He sat down on the couch next to his son. "I haven't had a chance to clean the boiler. We'll have to make do with the fireplace for tonight."

Ed groaned and burrowed himself more deeply under the blanket he'd grabbed before sitting down. "I think I'll sleep in here then. My room is always too cold without the boiler."

Roy didn't argue. Ed looked fairly miserable at the moment. He'd hardly said a word since he got in the car, other than to bid his friends farewell. "How're you holding up, kiddo?"

Ed sighed and looked at his dad, then turned so that he could lean against his father's side. It was warmer there. "I was fine all day. It wasn't until I stepped out into the cold that everything started hurting."

Riza came back into the living room with a tray and three cups of cocoa. "Well, at least we knew something like this might happen. It's not surprising; we just weren't prepared for it today. Here, drink up." She handed her son and her husband a cup each and sat down on Ed's other side. There, snuggled between his parents, Ed felt safe and the pain didn't seem to matter so much. Plus, the hot chocolate was really good.

He frowned though, after a moment, remembering his plans for the evening. "I don't think I'm up to doing any alchemy tonight, Dad. I'm sorry."

Roy just smiled. "Don't worry about it, Ed. It's just as well, since I didn't finish my paperwork today anyway." Not that he'd actually expected to. After a month away from the office, there'd been a backlog of reports that needed signing and folders that needed filing – it would take two weeks, at least, to catch up and that was only if he worked through lunch and brought work home with him. Still, he'd already convinced Riza to let him have the night off to spend with their son. They both knew how much Ed was looking forward to this and it would be a nice distraction from the rehabilitation and therapy. But with Ed in this much pain from the cold, they would have to put it off for another night. He'd get the boiler up and running by tomorrow. Then maybe they could try again.

Unfortunately, they didn't get the chance to try it out the next day. Ed had caught a cold over night, his immune system having been weekend by the surgery before being exposed to all the new bugs that had accumulated in the school while he was gone and then knocked further down by the sudden cold front. By the time he got home from school the next day, his head was stuffed up and his nose was red. His whole body was sore – not just his ports and his mother stayed home with him on their third day back.

Roy couldn't afford to put off his paperwork any longer. With Ed out of commission anyway, he decided to dive in and get it all done as fast as possible. By the time he finished, Ed would certainly have recovered from his cold and gotten used to the effect of the cold weather on his ports. But as the days dragged on, Roy found himself seeing less and less of his son.

Ed's school work had picked up too as he prepared for his winter tests before New Years break. He didn't usually have to work hard to get good grades, but after taking a month off, plus a few days for the cold, he had some catching up to do – especially in Literature and Language. He was supposed to have read some classical novel while he was away – _Bigotry and Arrogance_ or something like that. He'd grown bored with it after the first few paragraphs and hadn't bothered to pick it up again. When it came down to the wire, he breezed through it and memorized what he needed to know about the plot. There were definitely some benefits to being a speed reader.

His friends also wanted to spend some more time with him. Both Kale and Bri came over for dinner a few times and Ed did the same at their houses once his cold cleared up.

Then, about a week before the term ended, Winry called and gave Ed the go ahead to start getting about without his crutch - he'd been using it less and less already as it was. He still had to take it slow and keep up with his exercises, but the ports had finally healed enough to bear his full weight.

To celebrate, Ed invited Kale and Bri over for a little party which included warm cookies and hot chocolate. Riza pulled out her father's old turn table, put on some records, and taught the kids a few dance steps. Ed and Kale took turns dancing with Bri and Riza, and Ed was thrilled to find he could actually follow the steps properly and keep up with the others. They danced and laughed for half an hour before Kale looked outside and let out a shout of excitement.

"It's snowing!"

And just like that, indoor dancing was abandoned in favor of twirling amid the gently falling flurries. It didn't last very long of course. Ed was still sensitive to the cold and Riza was watching carefully to make sure he didn't over exert himself in his excitement. But for the first time in forever, Ed felt a certain sense of freedom. He wasn't being held back by clumsy prosthetics or an awkward crutch. He could move and bend and control his body however he wanted to, even if he did fall down a few times, rolling happily on the snow covered lawn. He just stood back up again a kept going. He felt like he could do anything and he wanted to try. He wanted to run, to jump, to climb – all of the things that he'd never been able to do before but somehow felt he knew exactly how to do – if only his mother wasn't watching.

"Just a little while longer," he said to himself. "Soon I'll be able to do anything." He looked up as Kale ran past, chasing Bri with a handful of frozen slush. Laughing out loud, he stooped to gather his own snowball and joined in the fight from a more stationary position.

Roy had to work late that night and missed out on the festivities. He came home to find his son passed out on the couch with his shirt pushed up to expose his stomach and a contented smile on his face. Shaking his head, Roy tossed a blanket over the boy and went to look for his wife in the kitchen.

"How was the party?" He asked, pouring himself a glass of brandy. It had been a stressful day at Headquarters – three meetings: one with his own staff, one with the other Generals, and a one overseen by the Fuhrer himself. This last had been the one to keep him out so late. Apparently tensions were rising between Amestris and several of their neighbors. It wasn't a good time for the State. Roy barely had time to finish what paperwork he had before more piled up on his desk. Thankfully, Riza had only been required at the first meeting and was able to pick Ed up from school and oversee his celebration.

Riza smiled and continued washing the dishes. "It was wonderful. I don't think I've ever heard him laugh quite as much as he did tonight. He may have over done it a bit when it started snowing though. He'll probably be sore in the morning but I don't think he'll regret it."

Roy nodded and stared into his drink, thoughtfully. "I'd have liked to see that." He scoffed. "His first day on his own two legs and his father isn't even there to help celebrate. Some great dad I'm turning out to be. I've hardly seen him at all this month."

"Roy."

Roy looked up at his wife. She'd stepped away from the sink and was drying her hands on a dish towel. "He doesn't hold it against you. He knows how important your work is, just as I do. And he loves you." She took the empty glass from his hand – Roy hadn't even noticed when he finished it – and went back to the sink to wash it. "Things will settle down again soon enough. And there will be other will be other parties." She smiled warmly. "His twelfth birthday is coming up soon, you know?"

Roy blinked, realizing. Had it really been twelve years? So much had changed in that time; he could hardly keep up with it. Ed was growing up so fast – too fast in Roy's way of thinking. He wanted to stop time or make it go back a bit even.

He'd been avoiding his son.

Yes, he'd been busy at the office – very busy, but he could have made the time if he'd really wanted to. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he'd been grateful for the extra work. He'd taken it on willingly if it meant he didn't have to think about the past. Too many memories had been coming back to haunt him lately – all because his son was starting to look too much like the boy he used to be. Too many mistakes… too many things left undone… and the guilt was eating at him.

Ever since that first day back from Resembool, when he called him Fullmetal by mistake, he'd been avoiding his son to keep that from happening again. He couldn't let it happen again. Ed wasn't Fullmetal – not anymore. And if he knew the truth – if he knew what Roy had done and what Roy hadn't done… Ed would never forgive him.

But avoiding him wasn't the answer. Roy hated missing out on important moments in his son's life – moments like today. Riza was right – Ed wouldn't hold it against him. But he still should have been there. He'd have to make it up to him somehow.

Ed's birthday was coming up and it fell during winter vacation too. Roy was going to be there, no matter what he had to put aside at work to make it happen. And he was going to spend as much time with his son as he could during the holidays.

Ed deserved that much – and so much more. He deserved to have a father who was always there for him and Roy was bound and determined to make sure that happened.


	4. in which there will be no running

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** Wow… you guys are amazing. I've been writing fanfiction for almost fifteen years and I've never received this many reviews in such a short period of time. It's really heartwarming – not just the amount of reviews either. You all seem to have something to say other than just "good job!"or "update, update!" You're feedback is really helpful – it lets me know what I'm doing right and what I'm not being clear enough about. I think the only disappointing review I've gotten was a peculiar death threat – something along the lines of "update or die"… please don't do that. It's rude.

Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story. You guys are awesome! I won't keep you any longer now. This chapter is important.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 4, in which there will be no running in the house**

Ed sat on his bed and stared dejectedly at the metal object in his hands. It wasn't very big – not even a foot tall and only about four inches wide – just a toy really… a doll. But it was perfectly proportioned and free from any obvious, residual transmutation marks. Hands down, it was probably the best result he'd ever achieved with alchemy – even if it was only a model; he hadn't had enough materials to make it life size. That didn't matter though.

What mattered was that he couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong. The transmutation had worked perfectly, their theory tested out a second time, and the results were superb – at least Ed thought so.

_But Dad…_

He wiped his left hand across his face to rid his eyes of the moisture that had started to build. He wouldn't cry. That wouldn't help anything. He just had to figure out what went wrong. Then he could go back and fix it.

Everything had been going so well.

It started two days ago – his twelfth birthday.

Winter vacation had been mostly boring for Ed. He'd spent the New Year at Kale's house while his parents went to the annual State celebration. Technically, Ed could have gone with them. He was old enough – had been for a few years, and he knew that other officers' children attended – but Roy and Riza had never made a fuss about it. They didn't like the idea of flaunting their son before the rest of the Brass like some kind of token child and they'd seen how the other children behaved at the party – the older ones were bored and the younger ones passed out well before midnight. So Ed was always given the option to go but they made it clear that they would rather let him have some fun with his friends than dress him up for some stuffy dinner.

Other than that, he mostly stayed home. He read a lot and did his rehabilitation exercises. His mobility and fine motor skills were improving quickly. One of the first things he learned mastered was how to turn pages with his automail hand without ripping them – after a very alarming tear in one of his favorite books, which was thankfully, easily fixed with alchemy.

He was quickly learning the benefits of using two hands to simplify tasks that he'd been so accustomed to doing with one and he was thrilled to finally learn how to properly tie his own shoes. The strange knot he'd managed to do one-handed had never worked all that well – he'd worn loafers a lot. Getting dressed in general was a much quicker process as well once he learned how to properly maneuver his automail through the right holes. He found joy in simple tasks – like cutting vegetables for dinner which also meant spending some quality time with his mom.

His left leg was getting stronger as well. He took several walks each day, just down the block a ways, going a little bit further each time. He was tempted to try running but Winry had asked him to wait a bit longer on that. The blond mechanic called several times a week for progress reports and to give him the go ahead for various new activities.

But all of his exercises and therapy didn't make the two week vacation period go by much faster. By the end of the first week, Ed was ready to go back to school just to have something else to do. He was immensely grateful, therefore, for the huge distraction brought on by the birthday celebration his parents threw for him.

Kale and Bri were there of course, along with a few other friends from school. Elicia Hughes, who was the closest thing Ed had to an older sister, came along with her mother, Gracia – Aunt Gracia to Ed. Most of his dad's team stopped by to wish him a happy birthday too – at least all of the ones who knew him well: Uncle Jean, Uncle Heymans, Uncle Vato, and Uncle Kain. Those four had been around for as long as he could remember, always eager to see him. They treated him like one of the guys and made Ed feel grown up. Everyone was excited to see Ed's new automail and there were lots of smiles and laughs and a big white cake with strawberries.

Then there were the presents. Ed received some new clothes and lots of books but the gift from his parents really took the cake – literally. The small white puppy hadn't hesitated to steal a piece right off of Ed's plate while he held her in his lap on the couch.

"Every boy needs a good dog." Riza said, though Ed thought maybe the pup was as much a present for her as it was for him. Black Hayate had passed away two years before and Ed missed having a dog in the house but he knew that his mom missed her dog more. He named his new puppy Lilyate – Lily, for short – in honor of the first dog he'd ever known.

"You know, you'll be in charge of feeding and walking her." Roy commented. "And cleaning up her messes." His words were strict but he was smiling and Ed beamed back at his father.

"I know, Dad. Thank you. This is the best birthday ever."

But that wasn't the end of it. After the party guests left, Roy announced that there was another part to his gift – he'd arranged to take another day off to spend with his son, just the two of them.

"Maybe we can finally do the transmutation we've been planning."

Ed's eyes lit up at the prospect. His dad had been so busy lately with all of the border tensions and stuff – Ed didn't know a lot about it but he'd heard enough. Most days Roy came home late or brought work home with him and when he didn't, it was because he was too tired to do much more than eat dinner and sit on the couch reading before bed. Ed tried not to let it bother him – he knew his dad's work was important – but he missed the time they used to spend together when he was younger. Even though they'd had a whole month together in Resembool – and Ed knew how difficult it had been to arrange that trip just for him – it was really hard to go from having his dad around all the time, to hardly seeing him at all.

"Just the two, of us?" He asked, excited.

"That's right, kiddo. Just you and me."

Ed had gone to bed that night full of expectations and hopes for a day spent with his dad working on the very thing they both loved the most: alchemy.

He'd woken up early – not because of his excitement though. It was a dream that woke him – the same dream as he'd been having, but different this time too. In all honesty, he hadn't given much thought to the dreams since he started back at school. He'd just been too busy to focus on them and he figured they'd stop eventually. But they hadn't. With the extra free time he found during break, he had started thinking about it again and had gone back to picking out key points to remember from them. Two more points had made it onto his list.

_I don't like milk_

"_Fullmetal"_

The milk thing was odd. Several voices in his dreams kept telling him to drink his milk. For some reason the request always made him feel angry. Emotions were weird in the dreams. Sometimes he felt like he was responding to things normally and other times, like here with the milk, he found himself irrationally worked up over something simple. And it was just milk. Milk was… okay so it wasn't his favorite thing to drink but his mom and dad had always been pretty firm about him drinking it and he'd never really argued. It wasn't _that_ bad. But in the dream, he felt like he hated it and, after he wrote it down, a part of his mind wholeheartedly agreed with the statement even as another part tried to rationalize against it.

As for "Fullmetal," he'd started hearing that word a lot and it sounded familiar. He knew he'd heard it somewhere before, recently even, but he couldn't place it. In the dream, it was usually his dad's voice that said it – but sometimes others as well – and it was amazing how many different ways it seemed to be inflected. It was the same with "Brother." Two really simple words and yet they both seemed to mean a lot more depending on how they were said.

Now he had something else to add to the list – but he wasn't sure how to phrase it. His dream had been weird. It started out the same as all of the others with voices and faces and what not, but at the end it seemed to settle down into a single scene which somehow managed to cling to Ed's memory after he woke up, through no real conscious effort of his own.

The scene didn't even really make much sense and wouldn't seem to be important at all if it weren't for the sudden, raw emotion that was attached to it.

_It was a man_, Ed thought. _A man with a beard… and glasses._ He'd never seen him before – he knew that much – yet somehow he seemed familiar anyway. _He stood there for a moment… and then he left_. And that's when the pain hit – he wasn't sure how else to describe it. He wasn't hurting physically at all. It was all emotional. But he'd never felt anything like it before and he didn't have a word to describe it. _Lonely? Lost? Sort of, but not quite._ Worst of all, he could still feel it – even being awake, just thinking about it hurt somewhere deep inside of him.

He picked up a pen and added to his list.

_A strange man leaves and I feel… hurt?_

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sudden sensation of a wet nose sniffing at his bare, right foot. Looking down, he saw Lilyate sitting there with her head tilted cutely to one side. All thoughts of dreams and weird feelings flew out of Ed's head as the previous day came rushing back to him along with the promised plans for today.

He grinned widely and scooped up the puppy, depositing her on his bed before moving to his wardrobe to pull out some clothes for the day. "Today's the day, Lily!" He said as he pulled a shirt over his head. He had to wiggle a little as it got caught on his automail in his rush but soon he was sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling on his pants, followed by socks, and then shoes. He grabbed a sweater and wriggled into that too. "I guess you probably need to go out, huh?" He asked the dog.

Lilyate barked in response and Ed laughed. "Well, c'mon! Let's go!"He dashed out the door with the puppy hot on heals. He was almost to the front door before he realized that he was running and stopped short.

He froze for a moment and then looked sheepishly at his dog. "Woops… I'm not supposed to do that yet. You won't tell anyone, right Lil?"

"Too late." A voice said behind him.

Ed spun around to see his father leaning against the wall between the kitchen and the sitting room. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

"Dad!" Ed exclaimed in surprise. "Um… I'm sorry. I know I'm not allowed to yet but I didn't even realize I was running until I was here."

Roy only chuckled and paced over to his son with a smile. "It's alright, Ed. How did it feel?"

Ed took a moment to think about the question. How did it feel? It felt… natural. He didn't even have to think about it. It was like his body knew what it was doing already, even though it had never done it before. And the aftermath – his heart was beating faster than normal and his breathing was a little sharper too. It hadn't been a long run and Ed could tell that his body was pretty out of shape if he was winded after that short little sprint. His ports didn't hurt though. They actually felt pretty good – like the way his muscles felt after stretching.

He grinned. "It felt great, Dad!"

"Good."Roy nodded then grimaced slightly. "You probably shouldn't do it on purpose though until Winry gives you the okay."

"I know, Dad."

"And you probably don't need to hear this since you're already old enough to know better but I don't think I'd be fulfilling my parental obligations if I didn't say it at least once in your life so… No running in the house."

Ed laughed. "Got it, Dad." He managed to say between giggles.

Roy laughed along with his son, then straightened himself and asked seriously, "Are you ready for today? We have a lot of work to do."

The boy smiled and snapped into his best salute. "Sir, yes sir! I just have to walk Lilyate and then I'll be all set."

The General smiled wryly at the gesture but nodded. "Better get to it then, Private Mustang." The boy nodded and turned back to the door, locating Lily's leash and clipping it to her collar. "Put on your coat, Ed." Roy called after him. "It's cold out there."

After walking the dog and sitting down for a quick breakfast – Riza insisted that they eat at the table and not just grab something to eat while they worked – Ed followed his father to their alchemy lab and they got to work. They had to start from the beginning in their notes because, while they'd discussed the theory at length back in Resembool, they hadn't had any of the books they needed to cross-reference ideas and they hadn't written anything down at the time either.

Roy and Ed worked together like a well oiled machine bouncing thoughts off of each other rapidly using alchemical language only other alchemists could truly hope to follow. At times they would lapse into silence, reading diligently side-by-side. They didn't even stop when Riza brought lunch down for them, only reaching for sandwiches off the tray and eating while they worked.

Roy wasn't Ed's teacher. Ed had never asked him to be and really the only thing Roy felt truly qualified to teach was Flame Alchemy – which wasn't going to happen. Ed hadn't really needed a teacher anyway, having learned most of what he knew on his own. When father and son did get together to practice alchemy – it was as colleagues, as equals. Even when Ed was younger and his skill at a much lower level than his father's, Roy had never taken on the role of superior in their time together. He treated Ed as a fellow alchemist, skilled in his own right, not as a student who needed to be taught. All of Ed's ideas were taken seriously, every theory was tested and tried to his heart's content, and Roy enjoyed the experiments as much, if not more, than the boy did.

Ed had asked him about it once – about why he spent so much time working with Ed and not just doing his own research. Roy had then told him about his job as a State Alchemist.

"Some State Alchemists never leave the lab. Their job is to research, to theorize, to develop new ideas about how alchemy can help the State. They may have the rank of Major, but they aren't soldiers and they never will be. Other's do some research but also spend a lot of time out in the field, on various missions for the military. They help apprehend criminals, search for mineral deposits on potential mining sites, stabilize old structures, and help out during emergencies and natural disasters. Their skills are put to use in many and various ways. During war times they are called to serve the military in battle. Then there are a few who are like me. I was a soldier before I became a State Alchemist. I attended basic training, like other soldiers and worked my way up through the ranks. I did skip quite a few ranks upon receiving my State Certification but I wasn't content to stop there. After serving in the war I became determined to protect the people I care about so that they could protect the ones they care about. So I kept pushing my way up the ranks – the more power I have, the more people I can protect. Yes, I am a State Alchemist but I'm a soldier first and doing research is the very last thing on my job description. Honestly, I hadn't spent any time in the lab at all for years before you came along and dragged me back in here. You reminded me why I fell in love with alchemy in the first place and you give me a reason to keep coming back and learning to love it all over again. I feel like a kid again when I'm in here with you, Ed. That's why."

And so they continued on through the day – it was almost dinner time before they finished their research and were ready to test the theory. The room was a mess – dozens of books littered the floor amidst scraps of paper bearing notes and half-sketched transmutation circles. Ed exchanged looks with his father before they both set to cleaning up. It wouldn't do to test their theory in a messy room – especially since it was going to involve flame alchemy. After gathering their final notes in one location, they started putting the room back in order. When that was finished, Ed grabbed a piece of chalk and started drawing his transmutation circle on the floor while Roy gathered their supplies – a bowl of silica (or sand) and his gloves. It would have been easy enough to start with pre-manufactured glass; using sand just heightened the challenge.

Then everything was set and they were ready to begin – except that Riza had just announced dinner and expected both of her boys to join her for the meal. So Roy and Ed dragged themselves away from the lab and ate as quickly as they could. They were both hungry though – alchemy research uses a lot of energy – and happily went through two servings each. In between bites, they pestered each other with more questions and ideas which Riza couldn't quite follow but she didn't interrupt. This was their day and it would probably the last one they had like this for awhile with all that was happening in the State.

After eating - and walking Lilyate for Ed, dishes for Roy – the boys regrouped in the lab. Riza followed, eager to see her son's latest creation.

Ed knelt next to his circle and placed both hands on the edge – this was the first transmutation he'd be doing with both hands and he felt a certain, strange pulse of energy rush through him at the rightness of the motion. He pictured in his mind exactly what he wanted to create and allowed the Earth's energy to move through the circle and into the pile of sand at the middle. Just as the blue alchemic light began to fill the room, he heard a snap and the brighter, yellow light of Roy's flames wrapped themselves around the product of Ed's transmutation – firing it, hardening it into completion.

As the lights died down, three sets of eyes blinked at the rapidly cooling, glass figure in the middle of the room.

"It's… pretty…"Ed said slowly, an accurate assessment but not all that exciting. He'd made a cup – or a glass as it were – to replace the one they'd broken in Resembool and it was unlike any glass they'd ever seen. The interior was practical enough for its use – smooth and without any cracks; it would hold any liquid the user preferred. The exterior, however, was etched with a delicate design reminiscent of the hills and trees in Resembool. It was almost three dimensional the pattern ever so slightly raised or indented to create a relief and on one side the branch of a tree separated from the main body of the glass completely in a line of delicately spun leaves which draped down to the bottom of the glass in an elegant handle. The piece, overall, sparkled brightly in the lamp light.

"It's beautiful, Edward." Riza said. "It looks like crystal."

Ed shook his head. "Crystal has lead in it – at least twenty-four percent. We didn't use any lead, just silica. But I think the fire helped to give it a crystalline appearance." He slowly moved the back of his hand towards the glass to test its heat and, when he felt only slight warmth remaining, he picked up his product to examine it more closely. Looking near the bottom, he frowned. "Transmutation marks."He grumbled. "Here at the bottom. I still can't get that right."

"Let me see."Roy asked and Ed handed him the piece. He examined it for a moment and smiled. "They're hardly noticeable Ed. They actually kind of look like grass, which works well with your design. And it's strong, even with all of the details. Your theory panned out." That was something Roy always did after they worked on a project together. It didn't matter if he'd had just as much of a hand in the research and even the transmutation itself, the finished product was always Ed's – Ed's theory, Ed's work. Roy never took any credit for himself. "Winry is going to love it, I'm sure."

Ed shrugged. "I guess so. I don't think glass is really my forte though." Ed preferred working with metals or at least stone. He could appreciate the delicate complexity of his glass creation but he knew the result would have been better if he'd been working with iron or carbon. His eyes lit up suddenly at the idea and he looked at his father eagerly. "Can we try it again, Dad?"

"Again?" Roy considered for a moment. It was already late but Ed didn't have school the next day, and who knew when they'd be able to do this again. If Ed wanted to do one more transmutation, there was no reason why he shouldn't. "I suppose. But why? Do you want to make something else?"

The boy nodded and then turned to the supply closet. He rummaged around for a moment and then emerged with a large container which held the raw iron ore stones that were Ed's favorite material for use in alchemy. "Yeah, but I want to use metal."

Roy frowned slightly. "The theory was for glass, Ed." He reminded his son.

"I know." Ed set the container down and then grabbed a rag to erase what was left of the previous transmutation circle. He took a piece of chalk and began drawing a new one as he spoke. "But it's really not that different. We came up with the idea of using fire for glass because that's how glass blowers and artisans do it. But if you think about it, swords and armor used to be made the same way – forged in fire. They still make weapons that way, right Mom? They melt down metals to mold parts for guns and heavy artillery." Riza nodded with a smile. "I bet even my automail parts are made with fire."

Ed finished the circle and moved back look at his work. Then he started placing rocks of iron ore in the center, examining each one for stray elements before putting it down. The ore wasn't pure iron, but he'd worked with the material long enough to know its general make up just by sight and weight. "So with just a few tweaks on the circle," Ed continued. "We should be able to transmute iron ore with fire, using the same theory that we did with the silica to make glass."

Roy knew a lot about alchemy – he'd studied with a master for years to get the basics down before he even ventured into flame alchemy – but he had to admit that when it came down to working with metals and the basic elements that made up the earth, Ed knew a lot more. The Flame Alchemist knew that he could do the same things Ed was doing – analyzing the makeup of a stone, planning out the exact equations needed, and drawing a transmutation circle to fit the situation – but it would take him a few hours to do what the boy was doing in mere minutes and he'd learned to trust his son with metal alchemy. Ed may be young, but he was a genius – Roy had never denied it.

Now he watched as Ed finished his work and, crouching next to the circle, looked up at his father expectantly. "Ready?"

Roy smirked. He didn't think it was possible to feel more pride and joy for his son than he did right then. "You bet. Let's do this kiddo."

Ed concentrated and, once again, the room was filled with the warm blue glow of alchemy. There was another snap and a small conflagration roiled into the circle, twisting itself around the emerging shape. As the flames died down and the transmutation stopped, the room became suddenly still.

Ed was the first to move, approaching, but not yet touching the still red hot metal. It would take longer to cool than the glass. He walked around his creation, examining it from all sides and then beamed up at his father. "It's perfect, Dad! No transmutation marks or anything! I knew it would work!"

But the older man wasn't smiling.

Roy started at the object in the middle of the circle with shock, and something akin to horror, written across his face.

Ed frowned. "Dad? What's the matter?"

There was a beat of silence and then another. Then the Flame Alchemist turned and left the room without a word.

Now, several hours later, Ed sat in his bed and stared at the object that had ruined a perfect day.

Riza had gone to talk with Roy after assuring Ed that it _wasn't_ his fault, that the transmutation _was_ perfect, and that he should get ready for bed once his creation finished cooling.

He'd done as his mother asked, but he couldn't bring himself to believe her words. If it wasn't his fault, if everything was perfect, then why had his father left him there.

He was confused… and hurt. It was a different kind of hurt than he'd ever experienced before only it felt familiar – the pain tearing through his chest, leaving an empty whole. And then he remembered and looked up at his desk with a gasp.

He had felt it before – just that morning after having that strange dream. The man with the beard had left and Ed had felt… it was that same pain, the same he was feeling now as he thought about the way his father had stared and then just turned and left. And suddenly he knew what it was – he had a name to attach to the emotion that was pulling on his chest.

Carrying the object in his automail arm, he moved to the desk and looked at the piece of paper that contained his list. It was just as he'd left it that morning – the new words staring at him underneath the rest in his own, broken scrawl. He frowned and grabbed a pen. Scratching through the last word on the page, he replaced it with another

_A strange man leaves and I feel… a__bandoned_

He didn't like the feeling. It was a sort of pain that ate away inside on him telling him over and over _It's your fault. It's your fault. _

"It's my fault." Ed whispered. Then he looked down at his new creation, still cradled in his right arm, and glared. "No… it's your fault. You're what made him angry. You're what made him leave!" He felt the anger build suddenly but he didn't fight it. It felt better – better than that other emotion, better than the pain.

He didn't think. He just acted. Pulling his automail arm back, he swung hard and released, sending the object careening across the room to slam against the far wall.

At first, nothing happened. It was too well made – fire having strengthened the iron and fortified it against breakage. As the hollow clang echoed throughout the room, Ed stared, somehow even angrier that the source of his distress was still in one piece. The doll stared back at him from its somewhat upright position, propped up against the wall, tilted precariously to one side.

And then, as though it were desperate to appease some small part of its creator's soul, the object gave way to gravity and completed its sideways descent. It struck the ground hard and the impact seemed to do what Ed's effort had not.

The small head came away from the body and rolled across the floor to stop at Ed's feet. He stooped to pick it up and then stood. Staring at the tiny object in his palm, Ed felt all of his anger suddenly swept away. He sagged against his automail leg and stumbled his way into bed, feeling spent and drained of all energy.

His gaze fell on the shelves that lined his wall. Whatever spaces weren't filled with books were lined with the objects he and his father had created together over the years – each and everyone a treasured possession, a memory of time spent with the man who hadn't had to take him in, who hadn't had to raise him.

Ed knew he was adopted – he'd figured that out years ago when he realized that he shared no physical traits with his father – and while Roy had never shared the story of exactly how the boy came into his life, Ed had always been sure of one thing:

"I chose to keep you, Ed." Roy would say. "You are, and will always be my son."

And Ed had always believed it, had never had a reason to doubt it – until now.

He'd messed up. He still wasn't sure how, but he'd done something wrong and his dad had left. What if he decided Ed wasn't good enough anymore? What if he sent him away?

Ed looked at the little metal head, still sitting in his palm. What if this was the last transmutation they ever did together?

And he'd just broken it.

He couldn't stop the tears this time. They rolled down his cheeks as he buried his face in his pillow.

"It's all my fault." He cried. "It's all my fault…"

* * *

Roy sat in his home office, a glass of brandy in one hand and a faded photograph in the other. The picture had come out of a box with many others from years past which had, till now, remained safely hided away on a high shelf in his closet.

Now he stared at the photo and allowed his mind to wander back to a time he hadn't allowed himself to think about in years.

"You need to talk to him." Riza's voice cut sternly through his thoughts. Roy winced but didn't move to respond. He sat in silence for a few moments longer, staring at the picture – remembering.

"I can't face him right now." He finally muttered, more to himself than to her. His words only seemed to anger her, however.

"The hell you can't, Roy Mustang. You can get up and go in there and apologize for leaving him there like that." She wasn't yelling but somehow, that was worse.

"No, I can't! I can't face him! And I can't face that – that thing! You saw what he made, Riza!"

Riza closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, it was with a somewhat gentler gaze. She knew why her husband was running away. She knew what he was feeling right now. But that didn't mean he could leave their son the way he had.

"A toy, Roy. He made a toy – no different from the dozens of other toys he's made with you before."

"But this one looked like –"

"I know. But I don't think he has a clue why he made it look the way he did. You didn't see his face, Roy. All you could see was the toy. You couldn't see the hurt and confusion on your son's face when you left. You hurt him, Roy. He doesn't understand." Riza fixed her husband with a hard look. "You need to go to him."

"And tell him what? What am I supposed to say to him? What if…" He stopped, not wanting to voice his thoughts but needing to anyway. "What if he's remembering?"

Riza sighed, not liking the thought anymore than Roy did, but acknowledging the possible reality. "We always knew that was a possibility. And if that is the case, we will deal with it as it comes. But I don't think –"

"He's going to hate me, Riza!" Roy stood up and started pacing the room. "It's my fault! I'm the one who made him join the military. I'm the one who sent him on the _stupid_ mission! And the one thing –" he stopped by his desk and jammed a finger into the picture he'd been looking at earlier. "The one thing he counted on me to do – I couldn't do it!"

He sat down again, heavily, and took a long drink from his glass, finishing it. "If he remembers… he'll know. He'll know that I failed… and that I gave up. Fullmetal never would have given up."

Riza waited a moment and then crossed the room to stand beside her husband. She looked down at the pictures strewn across the desk – so many familiar faces – and at the one picture that seemed to be the focus of his attention. Two boys – one smirking and the other, though his face could not be seen, looking up as if to smile for the camera. For so long it seemed that one could never be seen without the other. They were like two halves of a whole – a whole that was now broken and yet… still good, still precious to her and to Roy.

She smiled sadly as the memories rushed through her mind. "You didn't give up." She said firmly.

Roy scoffed. "The case it closed, Riza. There are no ongoing investigations into the whereabouts of a ghost."

Riza eyed the General skeptically. "Of course. That's why there's still an open case file in the third drawer of your desk at the office."Roy looked up at her in shock but she only smiled. "You forget that I keep you workspace organized."

Roy sighed, admitting that he'd been caught on that one. Had it been any other case, Riza would have filed it away in the archives long ago. But she was just as determined to hold on to this one as he was. Even so, he shook his head sadly. "It's a dead end. They're all dead ends. I've tried everything, but there's nothing left – no leads, no evidence, not even the slightest clue. And Ed… if he ever remembers…"

"He'll know you tried." Riza finished for him. "You've given him so much. You've supported him and loved him and kept him safe. You've given him everything he needs."

Roy smiled grimly and picked up the picture. "Everything… except the one thing I can never give him. I can't give him back his brother."

His wife sighed but looked up at him with all of the confidence and strength she had ever shown on the battlefield. "He loves you, Roy. He'll always love you. It doesn't matter what he does or doesn't remember. You're his father and that's –"

The phone rang, cutting her off.

Roy frowned and stood up. "Who could be calling this late at night?" Moving to the phone, he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Mustang." He answered smoothly. A few moments passed and Riza waited, watching the crease between her husband's eyes grow deeper as he listened. "Yes, sir." He said finally and then, "I understand… yes I'll be there… Yes, sir. Good night."

"What is it?" Riza asked after Roy hung up and sat back down. He reached for the bottle of brandy to pour himself another glass but Riza stayed his hand with one of her own. "Roy?"

The General sighed. "There's a dispute near the Cretan border. Things are getting out of hand. I have orders to take a team in and settle it. It should only take a few weeks, if all goes well."

Riza winced. Knowing how things usually worked during these disputes, that was a big 'if.' "When do you leave?" She asked and worried about the answer. Once orders were issued, things moved fast in the Amestrian military. Roy's frown deepened and Riza knew the answer wasn't good.

"Tomorrow. The train leaves at 0700."

"That's not a lot of time." Riza replied and then she stood at attention. "What are my orders, sir?"

Roy smirked, but there was little humor in the expression. "Stay here. Hold down the fort. I'll be taking Havoc with me – he's not as good as you but I think we can trust him to watch my back. He's certainly managed before."

Riza nodded and then looked at her superior sternly. "Sir. You need to speak to Ed before you leave."

Roy frowned. "I need to pack as well."

"I'll take care of that." Riza replied. "Go. See your son."

* * *

Roy walked slowly down the hall to his son's room. He still wasn't sure what he was going to say or how he was going to apologize for his earlier idiocy. There was no other way of explaining it, really. He'd seen the… toy, as Riza called it, and he panicked.

He knew, of course, that Ed had no idea what he'd created. Despite Riza's claim that he hadn't seen his son, he had seen enough to know that the boy felt nothing more than pride and self-satisfaction towards the figure he'd created. The idea itself had probably come from a fleeting memory or a subconscious thought – a dream maybe. If Ed had truly remembered – if he had recognized what he created – it would have been evident in his eyes.

Realizing this, Roy felt terrible for his actions – for leaving his son without so much as a word of affirmation of a job well done. He hadn't even looked closely enough to see if Ed's statement was correct, if the product was as flawless as it seemed. He hadn't wanted to look. It was like seeing a ghost – a ghost come back to haunt him, to remind him of what he failed to do. So he ran.

He knew that Ed would forgive him. Even in the past, Ed hadn't been one to hold grudges for stupid mistakes. Sure, he'd get angry and let everyone know it. But then he'd calm down and things would be okay again without any words ever needing to be spoken. Ed didn't much like apologizing or listening to apologies either, for that matter. But he made it clear through his actions and through the look in his eyes when he forgave someone and when his trust in them was restored. Roy had been there and seen that look too many times in the past, though not once in the last twelve years. He'd never had to apologize to his son before – not like this. He'd never messed up like this before.

He knew Ed would forgive him… but it might take a bit longer for Roy to forgive himself.

He knocked gently on the boys door and then eased it open a bit. "Ed? Can I come in?"

There was no response. For a fearful moment, Roy worried that the boy wasn't there – that he was gone. But when he pushed the door open further, he spied his son, sprawled out on the bed with his automail leg hanging off one side and his shirt pushed up to expose his belly. He was still wearing his clothes from the day but he was clearly fast asleep.

Roy rolled his eyes and padded over to the bed to look at his son. He winced at the sight of streaks on the boy's cheeks and the slight redness around his eyes that indicated he'd been crying. Roy sat heavily on the end of the bed and leaned his head against his hands. He suddenly felt like crying himself.

"I'm so sorry, Ed." He whispered, though he knew the boy couldn't hear him. "I'm sorry. Can you forgive your father for being such an idiot?" There was no response and Roy didn't expect one.

After taking a moment to gather himself, he reached down and lifted his son's automail leg into his lap. He untied the shoe and set it on the floor before doing the same with the other foot. He wouldn't bother making the boy change into sleep clothes. It was late and Ed was clearly exhausted. He stood up and pulled the covers out from under the boy so he could tuck him in. Even with the boiler running, the house got cold at night and Ed couldn't afford to get sick again.

As he set about straitening the covers and fixing his son's shirt so his stomach wasn't showing, he noticed that something was clenched his Ed's left hand. Curious, Roy pried the fingers open gently and stared at the tiny object. A short, quiet laugh escaped him as he picked up the little head and looked around for the rest.

He spied the toy, lying carelessly against one wall, minus its head. Roy frowned. Ed always took good care of his things, especially the things he made himself. Seeing this creation so horribly mistreated and damaged, was only further evidence of the distress he'd caused his son that night. He debated with himself for several minutes about whether or not to wake the boy, to explain… something, to at least apologize. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was something about Ed when he was sleeping – even before… He couldn't explain it but Roy could never bring himself to wake his son.

He knew he wouldn't get a chance to talk to him before he left but actions had always spoken louder than words for Ed anyway. Looking at the object in his hand, Roy paced over to the wall and knelt down beside the fallen toy. He took a moment, then, to look over the product of his son's transmutation. Other than the head – which had clearly been broken by some act of force on the twelve-years-olds part – the creation was flawless. Roy didn't think it could be more perfect if it had been made by a master metal smith. There were none of the transmutation marks left by hasty or imperfect alchemy. The detail was fine – every grove and line and spike perfectly in place. Roy's smile was bittersweet but full of pride in his son's accomplishment. He knew, of course, that Ed was capable of much, much more complex alchemy if he ever had the reason to try. But he'd made it his mission as a father to make sure Ed never had such a reason, to let him being content and happy making toys for as long as possible. Soon, Roy knew, Ed would want to do more. And when that day came, Roy would be there to support him. For now, he was safe and happy and never had a reason to even think about looking into the more complex and frightening aspects of alchemy.

Setting both pieces aside for the moment, Roy fished a piece of chalk from his pocket and crouched down to draw a circle. He knew his work wouldn't be as good as Ed's – metal wasn't really his forte – but fixing the toy was the least he could do before he left. He took his time drawing the circle and then spent several long moments looking over the two parts, determining their structure and just how they needed to join. It was a simple enough transmutation, but Roy wanted to do his best.

When he was sure he was ready, he placed both parts in the middle of the circle and placed his hands on the edge. When the blue glow faded, Roy stood and smiled at the newly restored, miniature suit of armor.

Reaching down, he tapped the figure on the head with one finger. "There you go. I know how much you dislike it when people take your head." He looked at his son, still sleeping on the bed. He wished he didn't have to leave in the morning. He wished he could make his orders disappear and spend another day with his son to make up for the mess this one turned out to be. But none of that was possible.

"It's just a few weeks." He muttered to himself. "I'll be back soon. You'll look after him for me while I'm gone, won't you?" he said to the armor of the floor.

There was no response but Roy smiled anyway. "Thank you, Alphonse."

* * *

Ed wasn't sure, at first, what woke him up. He'd been dreaming again – at least he thought so – but he couldn't remember anything this time. When the noise came again, he sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes.

It was early, too early really. The room was only just starting to lighten and given the time of year, that meant it was probably about six o'clock. His parents never left for work before eight unless they were dropping him off at school first. But it was still vacation… So why did he hear car doors closing?

He stood up carefully, his leg port twinging a bit in the cold, and staggered to the window. Pushing the curtains aside, he peered out into the early morning light. It had snowed again last night and everything was covered in a fresh blanket of white powder – everything, that is, except the black car by the curb that didn't belong to his parents. Frowning, he watched as the front door opened and his mom came out of the house. She was followed by Uncle Jean, dressed in uniform, and his dad, also in uniform and carrying a suitcase.

A small bark drew Ed's attention away from the window, and he looked down at his dog. "Hey, Lily. I'll take you out in a bit, okay?" he murmured, still sleepy and wondering what was going on outside. Looking back up, he saw his dad put the suitcase in the trunk of the car before moving around to the passenger side. He spoke to Riza for a few minutes and they almost seemed to be having an argument. Roy shook his head and then leaned in to kiss his wife. She turned her head, but allowed him to kiss her cheek before stepping back and snapping a crisp salute.

It wasn't until the General moved to get in the car that Ed understood what was going on. His eyes flew open wide in realization. His dad was leaving. He was leaving and he hadn't told him. He hadn't even said goodbye and it didn't look like he was going to.

_Of course not_, he thought. _I messed up. He doesn't want to say goodbye. He probably doesn't even want to see me again_.

_Who cares?_ Another part of his brain argued and Ed was surprised by his own thoughts and the bitter anger that accompanied it. He squelched the idea before it could go any further.

"I care." He said aloud. And then he turned and ran.

A little voice in the back of his head reminded him that he shouldn't be running – in the house or otherwise – until Winry gave the okay. Another voice pointed out that he wasn't wearing any shoes and that he should probably grab a coat. He ignored all of these and pushed himself faster – down the hall to the front door, then outside and down the sidewalk to wear his mother was standing, watching the car drive away.

"Edward?!" Riza exclaimed as he sped past.

He didn't stop. He could see the car up ahead. It wasn't that far and it wasn't going too fast because of the snow on the road. He could catch it. He could. He had to. His bare foot sunk into the soft snow while his automail crunched beside it. He ignored the icy wet feeling between his toes and kept going. Goosebumps sprung up on every inch of his skin as the cold wind blew against him unhindered by the usual layers of clothing. But his heart was racing and his blood was pumping and he could feel the rush of adrenaline through his veins. It was familiar – the surge of speed, the control. He knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it. But he wasn't thinking about any of that. All he could think about was the car that was about to turn the corner and carry his dad out of sight and out of reach.

And then the car was stopping. The door was opening and Roy Mustang was stepping out, concern etched over his features. Ed didn't stop. He kept going until he felt the warmth of his father's arms wrap around him and smelled the scent of his old military coat and heard his voice whispering in concern.

"Ed, what are you doing?"

"Don't go, Dad!" He cried out, clingy desperately to the man. He didn't notice when he squeezed too tight with his automail, causing his father to wince and gently pry the hand away from his body. This only caused Ed more distress. "No! I'm sorry! Please don't leave! Don't go!"

"Ed… hey. Hey, look at me. Ed. Son." He looked up into his father's worried face. "I'm coming back. I always come back." Ed searched his dad's eyes and found them to be truthful – not that his father had ever lied to him before.

"W-where are you going? Why didn't you tell me?"

Roy winced, apparently regretting his decision not to wake the boy. "I didn't want to wake you. I got a call last night – orders to go to Xoporor, near Creta, to settle some border disputes. I won't be gone long, just a few weeks at most."

Ed nodded and allowed himself to relax a little. He was shaking, but he couldn't figure out why. His dad seemed to know though. "Ed, you're shivering. Why aren't you wearing a coat – or shoes?!"

"I – I wanted to catch you before you left." He murmured weakly. Now that his father had pointed it out, the cold seemed all too obvious to Ed. He burrowed himself closer to the warmth of his father's body and lifted his right foot out of the snow. His toes were numb and they hurt when he moved them. His ports were also starting to ache now that he wasn't moving enough to keep them warm.

Roy looked up and then back at his son. "You're mother is coming with a blanket. You need to get back inside, Ed. I'm sorry I didn't wake you and tell you I was going. But I will be back soon, okay? Go on, now. I've got a train to catch."

Ed nodded but then clung tighter to his Dad. "Wait. Wait!" Suddenly it seemed all too important not to let his father go. His mind flashed back to the dream – to the bearded man leaving and the ache he felt in his chest. He remembered the night before – his father's horrified face before he left the alchemy lab. He thought about the broken miniature suit of armor that might be the last thing he ever makes with his dad. And he couldn't let him go.

"What is it, Ed?"Roy asked gently.

Ed shook his head. "I don't want you to go." It was a stupid request. Ed knew it was. His father's job was important and when he got order to go somewhere, he went. That was the way it had always been and Ed was used to it. He'd never acted this way before because he always knew that his dad would come home. Yet it suddenly struck him that sometimes dads didn't come home.

"_Don't cry, Mommy." _The voice of a young girl echoed in the back of his mind. He'd heard it before, in one of his dreams. He shook it away, not wanting the distraction. He looked at his father, pleading.

"Tell them you can't make it. Tell them you've got too much work to do. You've got paperwork, lots of paperwork!" His dad always had paperwork.

Roy just shook his head. "You know it doesn't work that way."

"Then take me with you!" He wasn't sure where the idea came from but once he'd voiced it he felt that it was the perfect solution.

"What?!"

"Take me with you."He repeated, more sure of himself this time. "I can go. I can help you! I'm an alchemist, too. And I'm good. You know I am. I can help you!"

Roy let out something between a groan and a frustrated sigh. "That's just crazy, Ed. You can't come with me. It's no place for children. Besides, your automail is –"

"My automail is fine!"Ed interrupted. "You saw me just now – I was running! I was really running! And it didn't hurt at all!" Granted, it was starting to hurt now, but his dad didn't need to know that if it meant not getting to go. "I can do it. I can do anything you ask. Just let me come! I can help you. I know I can. I –"

"Stop it, Fullmetal!"

Ed stopped, stunned both by the word and by his father's tone of voice. Roy was angry. They stared at each other for several moments before the General's eyes widened and he looked away.

"Edward." He corrected himself but his tone was already gentler. "Stop it, Edward. You're not coming. Now I don't know what's gotten into you all of a sudden but you already know how this works. I have a mission and I can't ignore my orders. You can_not_ come with me so I want you put that idea out of your head." He sighed then and crouched down to Ed's level, looking him in the eye. "I will be back, Son. I promise. I know we have some things we need to talk about and I'm sorry about last night, but there isn't time right now."

Ed suddenly felt himself drawn into his father's warm embrace. For a moment, time stood still as Ed breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of black coffee and fire. If he could stop time right now, everything would be alright. His father wouldn't go anywhere and yesterday wouldn't matter, the dreams wouldn't matter, and the weird pain in his chest would go away. If only he would stay.

"I have to go now, okay? I can't miss the train."

Then his father's arms were gone and replaced by a warm blanket that his mother had draped around his shoulders. He watched as his father signaled to Uncle Havoc and then turned back to give him a reassuring smile and a wave before climbing into the car.

"Let's go, Ed." His mother's voice called to him as her gentle hands tried to steer him away and back to the house and somehow time sped up again.

Suddenly finding himself able to move, Ed lurched forward only to be stopped by his mother's arms. "No! It's not okay! It's not okay!" He couldn't explain the emotions coursing through him. It was too much – fear, sorrow, loneliness, heartache, anger. He settled on anger – it was easier to deal with, easier to express. "You bastard! Come back! Don't run away! Don't run away from me! Come back! It's not okay! It's not! Come back!"

In the car, Jean Havoc kept his focus on the road and pretended not to notice the tears in his superior's eyes as the voice of the Fullmetal Alchemist faded into the distance.


	5. in which Riza learns a new word

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** Got it out before the weekend! Are you happy? I am! Of course, this isn't quite the chapter I intended to write. What was supposed to be a short scene turned into a rather large one – Riza's fault. She decided it was her turn to play a big part in a chapter. I'm not super confident at writing Hawkeye though. I like her – she's just hard to write so I hope I did her justice. Anyway, the other scenes which were supposed to be in this chapter will be in the next one. It'll probably be another big one too. This one is smallish – smaller than chapter 4 anyway. But it's a good break before we get into more drama. Oh, and just so everyone is clear –Dr. Knox is the son of Dr. Knox from the series. So Bri is Knox's granddaughter. Also, I've started posting story status notes on my profile so if you ever want to know when a new chapter is coming, you can check there. I loved all of the reviews from the last chapter. Your support is overwhelming! Thank you!

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 5, in which Riza learns a new word**

"_Stop it! Stop! Why am I doing this? He'll be fine… I know he will. He'll come back. He promised."_

"_He might not. Sometimes they don't come back – sometimes they leave and that's it! I never see them again. Like him…"_

_The strange man with the golden hair and beard, turning and leaving, never to return…_

"_I don't even know him! He doesn't matter! Dad will come back. He always does."_

"_What about Mister Hughes?"_

_A smiling man with black hair and laughing eyes behind square-framed glasses…_

"_Elicia's dad… I never met him but I've seen pictures."_

"_He died when she was little. Just went to work one day and never came home."_

"_Yeah, but… that won't happen to Dad. It can't. He's strong."_

"_Hughes was strong too."_

"…"

"_It's not just dads. Mom left too."_

"_No she didn't. Mom didn't go anywhere. She's right here."_

"_No…"_

_Hazel eyes and soft fawn hair, a gentle smile._

"_That's not her. She's not…"_

"_She's gone. We watched her die."_

_A new tombstone over a fresh grave._

"_But she's not…"_

"_Kids leave too. Kids leave and never come home."_

_Auburn pigtails – "Wanna play?"_

"_Nina… How do I know her name? Wait! She's gone? Where is she?"_

"_And Al… where's Al?"_

"_Al?"_

_His miniature suit of armor – but bigger, much bigger with soulfire burning in his eyes._

"_Where is he?"_

"_I lost him."_

"_No! I –"_

"_Brother?"_

"_I lost him. I failed. I broke my promise."_

"_No! I don't understand! Stop it! Stop!"_

Black coffee and fire. "I have to go now, okay?"

"_Dad…"_

"_He'll leave, too. He's leaving now. He knows I failed. He'll leave and he won't come back."_

"_He will come back. He promised. It's okay."_

"_No! It's not okay! He can't leave! He might not ever come back! Just like the others. I can't lose him too! It's not okay!"_

Gunpowder and chamomile. "Let's go, Ed."

"_It's not okay! It's not!"_

"Come back! It's not okay!"

* * *

Ed couldn't remember returning to the house. He thought at some point his mother must have picked him up and carried him. He found himself lying on the couch. He was freezing cold. He was burning hot. He thought he might be shivering and sweating at the same time. His body was wrapped in several thick blankets. He couldn't move.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, fueled by a torrent of unexplainable emotion. It was illogical. It didn't make sense. He knew it didn't make sense. But the tiny corner of his brain which tried to rationalize its way out of the confusion went ignored under the barrage of voices and faces and terrifying thoughts. He felt trapped. He couldn't break free. It was suffocating.

The blankets were suffocating but he couldn't move his arms to toss them off. He couldn't work his voice to ask for their removal. His body wasn't responding to the weakened cries of the only part of his mind that was not lost to the storm.

He heard his mother's voice. She was speaking – but not to him. She was on the phone.

Time passed and slowly… slowly… the storm faded and then it was gone. His mind was clear and it felt almost empty in comparison – empty and stupid. He remembered everything: what he'd done, what he'd said, how he'd acted. _Like a child… I acted like a child throwing a temper tantrum_.

Embarrassment… he hated that emotion. It made him feel small. _I'm not small!_

But it wasn't his fault. He couldn't control it – couldn't stop it! He tried! But nothing was making any sense. Those thoughts – _They were mine… but not mine. I didn't want to think those things. I didn't want to say those things. It wasn't me! – But it was… Why? Why did this happen?_

"Sounds like a panic attack." A man's voice said – not his father, but it sounded somewhat familiar. Ed allowed his eyes to wander to the source. His mother came into the room followed by Dr. Knox.

Bri's father was a friendly man with a straight nose and a sharp jaw. He was fairly young but he'd been the Mustang family's physician for as long as Ed could remember. The doctor came close, knelt by the couch, and laid a hand on Ed's forehead.

"Hello, Ed. Can you hear me?" He asked in a gentle voice.

Ed nodded. "Yeah." He replied hoarsely. His throat felt scratchy from all of his shouting earlier – the cold air probably hadn't helped any either.

Dr. Knox smiled. "Good. Do you remember what happened?"

Ed felt his cheeks flush as he turned his face away from the doctor's gaze. "Yeah…"he muttered after a moment.

The doctor didn't pry any further. He looked up at Riza. "Well, he's responsive now. It looks like the worst is over. He does have a high fever though. How long did you say he was outside?"

"No more than ten minutes." Ed's mother replied. "But he wasn't wearing his coat, or shoes."

The doctor nodded and took out a clipboard to right something down. "That could account for the fever although it may have been brought on by the panic attack. It's also possible that the fever started first and actually triggered the attack. Does he have any history of panic attacks, even mild ones that I should know about?"

Riza shook her head. "Not that I know of. Although –" She paused a moment and then continued with more surety in her voice. "No. I don't think he's ever had one before."

Dr. Knox turned back to the boy on the couch. "Ed, I need you to be completely honest with me. Has anything like this ever happened before? Any rushes of uncontrolled emotion? Unexplained feelings of fear? Panic?"

Ed thought and wondered for a moment if he should tell the doctor about his dreams and the strange visions he'd had. But that wasn't what the doctor was asking and… _he'll think I'm crazy._

"No."Ed shook his head and almost sighed with relief when the doctor accepted his answer.

"Alright. It's probably an isolated incident." He spoke to Riza again. "There's been a bad bug going around this winter. I've treated eight new cases this week and I wouldn't be surprised if this is another. The stress of his father leaving probably didn't help with the sudden onset of the fever. Combined with the extra strain put on the body during automail rehabilitation – well, I can't say I'm too surprised. This is why I recommended that he wait till he was older." He sighed. "Well there's no point arguing about that now. I'll write a prescription for him. It'll probably make him very drowsy but that's for the best. He'll need lots of rest if he hopes to recover before school starts back next week. You'll also want to air out his room – wash the sheets, make sure everything is clean. He doesn't need to risk being exposed to anything else right now."

The doctor left soon after and Riza busied herself in the kitchen, preparing a weak broth and some tea for her son. Ed pretended to be asleep, but his mind was still racing.

_A panic attack? Is that what it was? I guess that makes sense. I was really scared. Dad was leaving and… well he did leave. I didn't want him to but he did. If he had just stayed… it wouldn't have gotten so bad. _

_No. He had to go. I know that. His job is important. Amestris needs him._

_But I need him too. He shouldn't have gone. He shouldn't have left me. _

_Why did he leave me?_

_Who cares? I don't care. If he doesn't care enough to stay than I don't care either. I don't!_

* * *

"Ed, your father is on the phone. Do you want to speak with him?"

A part of Ed wanted to jump off the couch and race to the phone – not that his body would actually cooperate with the idea at this point. His fever had yet to come down, though it wasn't any higher either, and his whole body felt shaky and weak. His leg really hurt too and he was starting to worry about the automail port, so jumping and running were out of the question. Besides, another part of his mind was completely against the idea.

He felt embarrassed. The way he'd acted that morning… his behavior was horrible – clinging to his father like a frightened toddler! He wasn't so weak! His father had always taught him to be strong and yet there he was throwing a tantrum over nothing! He didn't want to know what his father thought of him right now.

He felt guilty. The last words he said – that verbal vitriol that had spewed from his mouth as a last resort – those painful, biting, scathing words deliberately chosen to hurt… He didn't mean them – any of them. He couldn't even believe they'd come out of his mouth. He'd never wanted to hurt his dad. And he knew he had. He didn't need to see his father's face to know that the words had hurt. And he couldn't face him now – even over the phone – knowing what he'd said and unable to take it back.

He felt angry – because his dad had left anyway. His tantrum, his words, his pleading, his shouting – none of it had made a difference. The General had turned around and left him standing on the side of the road.

And then he felt horrible for feeling angry because he knew – he _knew_! – that his dad would have stayed if he'd had the option. He didn't have a choice but to follow his orders and go to Xoporor.

So he felt angry at the orders and at the military and at his dad for being in the military and at himself for getting so upset and at the weird dreams and visions that just wouldn't leave him alone – and the cycle continued leaving him exhausted and bitter towards the whole situation.

No, he couldn't talk to his father. Not now. He wasn't ready to face him yet.

Ed shook his head. "I'm tired. I don't really feel like talking right now."

Riza nodded and stepped away. Returning to the phone, she resumed her conversation with her husband. "He says he's too tired." She answered Roy's earlier request. They had both hoped Ed would agree to speak with his father. His excuse for not doing so… it was valid at least. Ed had every right to feel tired after the day he'd had. But Riza knew her son well enough to know there was more to it than that.

"Is he still angry?" Roy asked. It was odd to hear the hesitation in his voice but Riza had heard it more and more often since Ed had become the biggest part of his life – the uncertainty, the fear that he was doing something horribly wrong, and now this… They'd never had a fight before –not really. Even this didn't really count as one. But they'd both been hurt, badly, by something that they couldn't really control. It was tearing Roy apart that he'd been forced to leave his son like that.

"I don't think so – at least, if he is, I don't think it's really directed at you. He's… honestly I'm sure, right now. He hasn't really said much and I'm hesitant to pry while he's not feeling well."

"How is he, physically?"

"His fever is still pretty high. And he's been messing with his leg. I think that run may have damaged his port. It was way too much, too soon. I still can't believe he was able to do that." Riza grimaced, remembering the way he'd flashed past her that morning and, for a moment, all she could do was stand there and watch him as her brain tried to catch up with the realization that her son was running. It wasn't like her to be caught so off guard and she'd been mentally berating herself for it all day.

Roy sighed heavily. "Damn… I should be there for him. This whole mission… it hasn't even started and I'm already over it."

Riza could hear his frustration. He was most likely gripping the phone tightly in one hand and running his fingers through his hair with the other. There was nothing she could say about his last comment – nothing that would help. "What's the situation over there?" she asked, moving their conversation into military business. If nothing else, it would help him focus his thoughts.

"Most of the fighting is happening in an isolated sector outside of the city, close to the boarder. Investigations haven't quite determined who is responsible – whether it's Cretan terrorists or rebels within our own boarders. Honestly, things are so disorganized around here, it's a wonder anything gets done. I'm taking a team out tomorrow to assess the situation. Hopefully we can settle things quickly. I just want to finish this up and get home." He released another long sigh. "I'd better go. I still need to go over some things with the team before we retire."

"Of course."

"Riza, will you…" He paused a moment, then continued. "Can you try to talk to him?" She didn't need to ask to know that he was talking about Ed again. "I just… I'm worried. He's never acted that way before but what if it's something he's been bottling up all of this time? What if it's always bothered him and we've never known? We need to address that – find some way to make it easier for him. I won't… I won't go away if it hurts him like this."

"General?" Was he really saying what she thought he was?

There was a moment of silence on the other end and then, "I'll retire, Riza." Another pause. "I don't want to, but I will. He doesn't deserve to have anymore hardships in his life. He's already lost… so much, even if he doesn't know it. If it means that he won't have to face that kind of fear again… I'll leave the military." His voice was firm. He meant every word.

Riza nodded, although he couldn't see. There was no argument to be made. "Yes, sir." She responded aloud.

Roy's half-hearted smile was almost audible through the phone. "That'll be a last resort though. We've still got a lot to do to clean up this country and, honestly, I don't think Ed would be happy if I quit because of him. But we can't ignore his needs. If this is a problem…"

"I'll talk to him, Roy."

"Thank you, Riza. Tell him goodnight for me. Tell him… tell him I love him."

After saying her goodbyes and hanging up, Riza made her way back over to the couch. Ed was dozing lightly but he looked up at her when she reached out to check his temperature with her hand.

"How's Dad?" He was trying to sound casual, but his eyebrows creased with worry as he asked.

Riza smiled kindly. "Worried about you."

Ed frowned and looked away. "He shouldn't be. He needs to focus on his work."

"Perhaps," his mother started. "But worrying about his son is part of what it means to be a father. And sometimes… worrying about your father is a part of what it means to be a son."

The boy bit his lip and his eyebrows pinched together in thought at that statement. "What do you mean?"

Riza didn't answer right away. She prompted Ed to sit up a bit and then sat down where his head had been. Smiling slightly, Ed took the invitation to lay his head in her lap where she began to run her fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture long established over twelve years worth of colds, flus, chickenpox, and, most recently, automail surgery. He allowed himself to relax and, slowly, his mind began to calm – the torrent of contradictory thoughts settled back into a dull roar. He breathed deeply, allowing the scents of chamomile tea and gunpowder to wash over his senses.

"It's scary sometimes, isn't it?" Ed opened his eyes to meet his mother's gaze, silently prompting her to continue. "Your father and I are both in the military. It's a dangerous line of work at times. We've both seen a lot of combat. You're at an age now when you understand what that means – what we do. I can imagine it's frightening at times, to know that your parents are walking into dangerous situations."

Ed scowled suddenly but he didn't sit up or move away. He just turned his head so that she couldn't see his eyes. "You're talking about this morning."He said surly. "You think I'm still freaking out and I'm just hiding it better now that Dad's gone."

"No, Ed. That's not what I mean, but it is related to what happened this morning."Her words were calm, collected. She wasn't pushing – just opening the door for discussion.

He sulked for a moment and then sighed. "I'm not scared." He said firmly. "I mean, I know his job is dangerous and yours too – but I also know how strong you both are. He's the _Flame Alchemist_, for crying out loud. He can create fireballs with a snap of his fingers. And you're _the_ Hawk's Eye. There's not a better marksman in the country. Everyone says so."

Riza smiled at her son's enthusiastic compliments but then she became serious again. "We're not invincible, Ed."

"I know… but that's why you've got each other. You watch Dad's back and he watches yours. Except… you're not with him now. You're here with me." He stared at the ground. "You should be with him. He needs you."

"My orders are to remain in Central." Riza pointed out. He knew she couldn't go to Xoporor without orders.

"Because of me." He argued stubbornly. "They know you guys have a kid and that means they can't send both of you out at the same time. So instead of watching his back like you're supposed to, you're here watching me."

Riza sighed. Sometimes the boy was too smart for his own good. "Havoc is with him." She finally said, hoping that information would console her son.

He only sulked. "I'd feel better if it was you."

"Is that what this is about, Ed?" Riza asked, seeing the opportunity to turn the conversation back to the problem at hand. "Are you scared that if your father goes without me, he won't come back?"

"No! I already told you. I'm not scared."This time he did sit up, but the sudden movements made him wince. He reached down to rub his leg. "This morning was nothing. It was just a panic attack – like Dr. Knox said. But that doesn't change the fact that you should be with Dad right now. It's not because I'm scared. It's because that's where you belong."

Riza didn't argue. She placed her hand on Ed's shoulder and gently encouraged him to lie down again. He fought it for a moment but eventually gave in. He was too tired and her touch was too soothing for him to pass up.

After a few more moments of silence, Riza resumed their conversation. "Panic attacks are frightening things, aren't they?"

"You've had one?" Ed looked up, curiously.

Riza nodded. "I've had a few in my lifetime. I think everyone has one at some point or another. They're usually brought on by high levels of stress which can be either physical or mental, sometimes both."

"I… I felt like I lost all control. I couldn't think straight. I tried to – to make it stop. But everything I did just made it worse." Ed admitted, closing his eyes. It was easier to talk about it when he turned off his other senses and focused on the feeling of his mother's fingers running through his hair.

"That sounds about right." His mother's voice was soothing. "You know, panic attacks can also be caused by phobias."

"Phobias? Like arachnophobia? Or acrophobia? Or Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia?"

Riza laughed and Ed cracked one eye open to see her smile. "What was that last one?"

Ed grinned. "Fear of long words." His mother's laughter made his ears feel good.

She ruffled his hair. "You read too much."

"Never!"

They both sighed and took a moment to relax.

"Is there a phobia for losing someone you love?" Riza asked.

Ed shrugged. "Not really. Not a named one anyway. But isn't that something everyone fears?"

"I suppose. What about a fear of being alone?"

"Monophobia." Ed rattled off. He paused and opened his eyes to look, hesitantly, at his mother. "Why do you ask?" he questioned slowly.

"Sometimes we can be afraid of something without knowing that we are afraid." Her gaze was soft, un-accusing, and open as she spoke and Ed was able to take her words at face value instead of growing angry at the implication that he was scared. He thought about her point – about being scared but not knowing it. But that didn't make sense. If he was scared of something, he'd know it. Wouldn't he?

Riza seemed to see his confusion because she continued. "I mean subconscious fears – thoughts, memories, and ideas that pass through our minds without our full awareness. Sometimes these subconscious thoughts can hold great emotions – including fear – even though we don't usually recognize it. Sometimes the fears have been actively suppressed. Other times we simply haven't encountered the source of the fear in a great enough way to allow the emotion to express itself."

That made a bit more sense – especially considering all of the errant thoughts that had passed through his mind that morning. He knew what she was asking – if that morning had been the result of some long-repressed fear or memory. But the emotions he'd felt – he didn't think they were something he'd been suppressing. It wasn't like he was releasing pressure on fears that had long been bottled up. They'd come out of nowhere and then they'd vanished. If he was just now expressing fear and anxiety over something he'd been suppressing – wouldn't he know that that was and be able to identify it and talk about it now that he'd calmed down? Still he needed to be sure. He needed to stop and think about it and identify if there was anything that triggered it. That would help. That would keep it from happening again.

He didn't think he was scared of his dad going away on missions. He thought back to previous missions which had required his father's absence for a period of time. He tried to remember as far back as he could, to the first mission he could recall. He was three or four at the time. His dad said he was going away for a bit but that he'd be back – like going to work, only longer – in five days. Ed had kept track of the days going by – counting them off every evening. On the fifth evening, his dad came home, just like he promised and regaled Ed with stories of his adventure. His dad was a brave, strong man – a soldier – an alchemist – a hero. He helped good people and stopped bad guys. And Ed was proud of his father. But he wasn't afraid – not then, not ever. He'd never felt the wild emotions that had ripped through his chest that morning. And it wasn't that he was older and knew more about the realities of battle now either. He'd known those things for years. He'd even talked to his dad about it once, a few years ago. They spoke of danger and of death and of sacrificing yourself to help others. And then Roy promised – he promised Ed that he would always do everything in his power to come back home to his family. He wouldn't take unnecessary risks and he would fight against death with every ounce of his strength because he knew there were people waiting for him – people who needed him.

And that had been enough for Ed.

It had always been enough and so he'd never been afraid – only proud as he watched his father leave to help more people, and excited to hear more stories when he came back.

Riza remained silent – allowing her son time to think it through. He appreciated that so much. His mother had always known just when to pry and when to wait and when to give him a good smack on the backside – she only pulled her gun on grownups. She was always so patient with him and now he looked up at her seriously. "I don't think that's it, Mom. Even now, I'm not afraid about Dad being on a mission. I'm… angry, I guess – that he had to go, that we didn't get a chance to talk, that he didn't listen to me when I asked him to stay – not that he could! I know that! I just… I was really freaking out and I know if he'd been able to stay, it would have gotten better. I don't really blame him… it's not his fault. He had to catch the train. But I'm still angry about it. And I'm angry at myself too… for what I did… and what I said… I didn't mean it."

His mother listened to his words without interrupting. She stroked his forehead, brushing his bangs back, and he leaned into her touch. "He knows." She said when it became clear he'd finished. There was nothing more to say.

The house was quiet and for the first time since he'd woken up that morning, Ed felt some sense of peace wash over him. His leg still hurt from running that morning and he could feel the general aches throughout his body, still lingering from the fever. Dr. Knox said the illness took several days to run its course – that he'd be weak and feverish for awhile and probably wouldn't be able to eat much. He didn't feel _good_. But he felt peaceful.

And as he felt his body start drifting into sleep he wondered, vaguely, if he would dream again.

That thought inspired another and he pushed back his sleepiness for a moment. "Mom?"

"Mmhmm?"

"That subconscious stuff you were talking about earlier… is that like… dreams?"

Riza pondered the question for a moment. "It can be." She answered. "Often the subconscious mind will express itself while sleeping. I've heard that some people try to interpret dreams to figure out the inner workings of the mind, although I'm not sure how scientific that process is."She added the last part for Ed's sake, knowing that her son would likely scoff at such notions as dream reading and the feel good 'science' which called itself psychology. Certainly he'd read enough books to know that some psychologists were actually attempting to take a true scientific approach to unlocking the human mind. But it seemed to Ed that most 'shrinks' were just con-artists who'd learned how to make money by asking people, 'How does that make you feel?'

Ed didn't comment on any of this, however. He was thinking about his dreams – what he could remember of them – and wondering if they were somehow related to something he'd subconsciously picked up somewhere or if they really were just nonsense.

"Have you been dreaming a lot lately?" Riza asked, startling the boy out of his thoughts.

He chewed on his lip, wondering how much he should reveal to his mother. On the one hand, it might help to have someone else's insight on how all of the pieces fit together. On the other hand… he already felt crazy enough after that morning's fiasco. He didn't need his mom thinking he was losing his mind over some strange dreams.

He settled telling her some of it. "I have been dreaming but… I don't really remember much and what I do doesn't really make any sense." That was all true at least. She didn't need the details yet. Not until he started making more sense of it all – and maybe not even then. Maybe it wasn't important at all. Maybe it was just subconscious ramblings that weren't supposed to make any sense.

"Dreams can be like that." His mother said. "Just know that if something is ever bothering you, whether it's a dream or real life, you can always come to me or your father. You can always talk to us."

Her words were comforting. He knew that he could go to her if he needed her – his dad too. He'd always known that. And he would go – if he couldn't handle it. But it was just a dream. It wasn't anything to worry them over. They were there if he needed them. That's what mattered.

"I know, Mom." Then, taking a deep breath, he allowed his body to settle into a sleep like state.

Dimly, he heard his mother speak again.

"Your father wanted me to tell you goodnight for him. He says he loves you."

Ed let himself smile and then muttered sleepily, "If he calls back, tell him I love him too."


	6. in which Ed is Fullmetal

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** Alright! Time for another big chapter. But first, I need to clarify something about Ed's internal monologue. Formatting that was difficult because I wanted the thoughts to be separate but I didn't really want everyone to think what everyone seems to be thinking – that Ed Mustang is arguing with Ed Elric in his head as though there are two, distinct, separate Ed's in there. This is not the case. There is only one Ed. All of his thoughts are his own. He simply doesn't know where some of them are coming from. Many don't make sense to him at all – not consciously anyway. It's like – have you ever had a sudden thought which, upon realizing what you thought, didn't really make sense and you were forced to contradict yourself in your head (or even out loud if you're one of those people who tend to speak without thinking – we all do that sometimes)? The problem for Ed is that those thoughts are coming too quickly for his brain to fully process them – the flashes of memory are gone before he has a chance to grasp the source of the thoughts and fears they evoke. He argues with them because he can't make sense of them. They are simultaneously right and wrong. I hope that makes sense and clears some things up.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 6, in which Ed is Fullmetal**

Ed stared at the metal figure standing next to the wall in his room.

He'd slept on the couch for the past three days, while he continued to suffer from fevers, fatigue, aches, and occasional nausea. His mother had taken good care of him – bringing him soup and tea, placing cool cloths on his forehead, and helping him to the bathroom when he needed to go. He couldn't walk very well. He had, indeed, strained his automail port against the still healing flesh and Winry had been pretty upset when they called to tell her. Ed was back to using the crutch for at least a week, maybe more, and he wasn't too happy about that.

Riza had also taken the time while he was sick to follow Dr. Knox's instructions about cleaning and airing out his room. As such, Ed had expected to find a perfectly made bed, dusted shelves, and a tidied desk when he was finally feeling well enough to get up and return to his room. What he didn't expect to find was a faded transmutation circle with a repaired, miniature suit of armor standing in the middle.

It was his father's work, obviously – the head of the little toy was solidly attached but the transmutation marks were fairly evident; metal was not Roy's specialty. So his father must have come into the room sometime before he left, probably while Ed was sleeping, and fixed it for him. The realization made Ed feel even worse for the way he'd acted and the things he'd said three days ago. He hoped his dad would come home soon so they could talk it over and fix things – if only emotions could be fixed with alchemy, life would be so much easier.

Smiling slightly, Ed picked up the figure and carried it to his bedside table, where he could get a better look at it. He considered it closely. The little suit of armor had made several appearances in his dreams over the past few days. Here, in his room, it was just a toy; but in his dream, it seemed to be alive – or, at least, that was the impression he got from it.

And there was a name attached – a name that seemed all too familiar and yet, also… misplaced somehow, as though it didn't really belong to the suit of armor but to something or someone else.

Ed placed one automail finger on the head of the little figure.

"Al." He tested the word out loud and tried to attach it to the toy in front of him. It fit… sort of, but it didn't at the same time.

Ed frowned and went to his desk. His mother had cleaned it, tidying his papers and putting his books away. He didn't think she'd read anything, though he knew he'd left his list sitting out before and wondered if she would say anything if she'd seen it.

He found the list in the middle of a large stack of loose paper.

His dreams had become more vivid over the past few days. He was remembering more. Also, several things that had come up during his panic attack had been featured in them and he thought, somehow, they must all be related.

He picked up a pen and started to write out the new information.

_Suit of armor – like my statue – "Al"_

He paused and then remembered something else. The image of the statue had been accompanied by another word as well – one he'd heard before.

He drew a line connecting "suit of armor" with "Brother." They were related – he knew they were – he just couldn't figure out how. He kept writing.

_Mr. Hughes – Elicia's dad – died when she was young_

He'd already known that. Elicia talked about her dad a lot, though she didn't really remember him. She liked to think of him as a great hero and the best father in the world. Ed had once argued that his dad was the best and Ms. Gracia had laughed at that comment. She never did explain what was so funny but his own parents seemed to be in on the joke because his mother smiled and his father rolled his eyes.

Ed didn't know what Mr. Hughes had to do with his dreams but he put it down anyway. Maybe it would make sense later.

_Little girl with braids – Nina _

That one was baffling. He'd never seen her before – he knew that. Even thinking back to his early childhood, he couldn't remember a single kid he'd played with who looked like her. But he knew her name the moment her image came to his mind. How could that be? Was it possible that his brain had fabricated the girl? He didn't think he'd ever had an imaginary friend but he supposed it could be possible.

He thought of what his mother had said about suppressed fears and something suddenly occurred to him. _What if it's a repressed memory?_ He thought. _Perhaps I did know her, when I was very young and something happened to her. Maybe whatever happened was so traumatic that I repressed the memory_.

_It was traumatic. It was horrible. I don't want to remember._

Ed squelched the unsolicited thoughts as he felt his emotions begin to react – despair, helplessness, depression – he didn't need those right now. He needed to keep a clear head so that he could make sense of all of this.

_Repressed memory_

He added the note next to _Nina_ on the list.

_Woman with mousey hair and hazel eyes – _

_Mom_, his mind supplied. _No, that's not right. Mom is here. She has blonde hair and brown eyes. But… _He stopped, not sure if he wanted to continue the thought. …_she's not my birth mother._ He knew this – just as he knew Roy wasn't his birth father – more so even. He'd been at his parents wedding. He was three at the time. He remembered it. He remembered the excitement he'd felt that Riza was going to be his "new mom." He'd always said that – he supposed because other people said it that way – but he'd never really thought of her as being "new" to replace something "old." It was more of a "brand new" way of thinking – the way a child gets excited about a "brand new" bike although it's the first he's ever owned. Riza was the only mom Ed had ever known – the only mom he'd ever wanted.

He'd never really thought about his birth mother before. _I couldn't possibly remember her, could I?_ But even as he tried to reason his way out of the thought, a part of his brain insisted that thinking of the strange woman as his birth mother was right.

– _birth mother?_

He wrote it on the list. His eyes then darted up to the earlier line about the strange man with the golden hair. If the woman was his birth mother could it be that this man…? _The traits certainly fit – golden hair, golden eyes. He looks just like me. Beard and glasses kinda throw it off though._ He made a note next to the line.

– _birth father?_

_No!_ A part of his mind screamed. _He's not my father! That bastard! _Ed squashed the anger he felt bubbling up inside of him. It didn't make sense. If the woman in his dreams was his birth mother, then it only made sense that this man, who looked just like him, might be his birth father. And even as a part of him rebelled against the idea, another part said yes, that's right.

_Hohenhiem_ his mind supplied. The name was accompanied by a strong sense of irritation and he felt that if he were ever to speak the word aloud it would have to be spat out in resentment of the character.

– _Hohenhiem _

He added the word.

Ed looked again at his list, searching for anything he'd missed. His eyes stopped on the word "Fullmetal." They studied it and then widened, realizing.

"Dad called me that." He whispered to himself. "Twice now – once the other day and once before when I fell at school." He frowned. "It's usually Dad's voice in the dreams too. But what does it mean? Why would he call me that?"

He wracked his brain for answers but they weren't forth-coming. He tried writing the word in different ways to see if it held some different meaning.

_Full metal_

_Full mettle _

_Full medal_

"None of this makes any sense!" He pushed the paper aside in aggravation. His list was now covered in lines and notes. It was disorganized and included things that were starting to seem less important in comparison with the others.

With a sudden sense of determination, Ed opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a blank journal – this was becoming too complex for one piece of paper. He started the list over – beginning with the things which seemed most important. He added details which might make connections between certain elements and he tried to link the whole thing together. When he'd compiled everything he thought he could, he leaned back and read back over his notes.

_Dad has a prominent place in the dreams. He calls me "Fullmetal" both in the dreams and twice in real life. Other people call me "Fullmetal" in the dreams as well. Mom is sometimes in the dreams. Uncles Jean, Heymans, Vato, and Kain are there too. And Black Hayate. Everyone looks a little bit younger than they do now – like they did when I was little. Another clue to this being a repressed memory?_

_There is a suit of armor which looks just like the one I made. "Al" not the name of the armor but definitely related to it – maybe the name of the person wearing the armor? Something like that – still doesn't fit. The voice calling me "Brother" comes from the armor… somehow. I don't have a brother so… maybe it's not me he's calling. But it feels like it is and I feel like I should be responding somehow._

_Woman with mousey hair and hazel eyes might be my birth mother. She's dead – this makes me sad. But I don't remember my birth mother. She died before I can remember. Need more information. Man with golden hair, beard, and glasses might be my birth father but this thought makes me angry. Again, it's not really possible for me to remember him. His name is Hohenhiem._

_Mr. Hughes is Elicia's dad. He died when she was little. I never met him but I've seen pictures. Elicia and Ms. Gracia really miss him but they like to remember him fondly. He was Dad's best friend. Is that important? _

_Nina… Nina was a little girl with auburn hair which she wore in pigtail braids. She had a really bright smile. She's gone now… dead? I know her name. Did I know her? Did I make her up? Feelings of intense sadness when I think of her – so probably real. But why don't I remember? Need to learn more about repressed memories. Do I want to remember?_

_Winry and automail – kind of obvious but Winry seems younger sometimes and she likes to throw things when she gets angry. Don't know what that means. _

_I am sometimes running in the dreams. I'm not supposed to be running yet but I did the other day. I'd never run before but I knew how without even thinking about it. I think I know how to jump and climb and do other stuff too. But aren't those things you have to learn? Does the body just know how to do those things automatically?_

_I don't like milk – I'm starting to agree with the dreams on that one._

* * *

The day that classes resumed was Career Day. For Central Academy, this meant that dozens of guest speakers were brought in to give presentations to the student body on the various professions which one might pursue after completing ones' education. Thankfully, the students were not required to attend all of the presentations. In fact, there was only time allotted for each student to attend two and so they were advised to choose carefully and to attend the presentations which most interested them so as to see if a given profession was worth pursuing.

Ed already knew which profession he wanted to pursue and so there was only one Career Day presentation that truly interested him. Still, he was required to choose two and so he decided to simply join Bri and Kale for their first presentation – Scientific Researcher. If there was one thing that all three friends could agree on in school it was that science was fun. Ed liked science because it was the foundation of alchemy. Bri's father was a doctor and she'd learned a lot about science from him. Kale was just a geek – but proud of it. So when his best friends suggested they all go to that presentation together, Ed couldn't find a reason to disagree. He had no intention of becoming a mere Scientific Researcher but the topic was interesting and did relate closely to his chosen profession so at least he wouldn't be bored.

After their first presentation, Kale darted off quickly. He wanted to get a good seat for the Engineering presentation. Ed and Bri smiled at his antics but left the room more slowly. Ed was still hobbling along on his crutch and berating himself for his run through the snow last week.

"You're not going to your dad's presentation?"Ed asked Bri when the passed the classroom for the Doctor presentation.

The girl shook her head, causing her dark hair to fall in front of her eyes. She frowned and pushed it behind her ear. "No, if I want to learn more about the medical field I can just ask him at home." She smiled at Ed, knowingly. "I guess I don't have to ask where you're going."

Ed grinned. "I know what I want to be when I grow up. It doesn't make sense to go anywhere else."

"But don't you ever get tired of it? I mean you study alchemy at home and your dad is a State Alchemist – don't you already know enough? Wouldn't it be more fun to at least look at the other occupations?"

"Not really."Ed shrugged. "I know a lot about alchemy and about the State Alchemy program but there are still things that I don't know. If I have any opportunity to learn more, I'm gonna take it. That way I'll definitely be prepared when it comes time to take the test. I'm sure I'll pass on my first try."

Bri giggled at his confidence but then sighed. "You're lucky, Ed. I wish I was so sure about where I'm going and what I'm going to do. I can't figure anything out right now."

"Which presentation are you going to?" Ed asked.

She smiled. "I thought I'd join you at the State Alchemist presentation."

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in alchemy." The boy looked up at her, surprised.

"Well, I've always been interested in it – your alchemy is so cool and the way you talk about it and get so excited… I've just never had the opportunity to study it like you have. And I don't know if I have any talent for it but I would like to try and learn. Hey! Do you know who's giving the presentation? Is it your dad?"

The sudden question threw Ed off for a moment. He blinked and then frowned, thinking about his father. But he cast those thoughts aside and smiled again before answering her question. "No, it's not my dad. He's on a mission right now in Xoporor. Besides, they don't usually send Generals out for this sort of thing. I'm not sure who it is though – probably one the research-only State Alchemists. The actual soldiers are usually too busy." He leaned on his crutch and reached to open the door to the correct room. The sign read "STATE ALCHEMY" in bold letters.

The two friends entered the room and were surprised to find it almost full. There were many students there from all of the years. Ed didn't recognize most of them. He and Bri found seats in the back just as the door opened one last time and a booming voice sounded through the room.

"WELCOME STUDENTS!"

Ed winced and instinctively ducked his head behind Bri. "Oh, no…"he groaned. "Hide me."

"What? Do you know him?"Bri looked up at the large man who had moved to the front of the classroom. He was still speaking in a rather loud voice – something about the art of teaching being passed down through his family line – but Bri was more concerned for her friend.

"Yeah… I know him. It's Major Armstrong." Ed explained in a low voice. "He's a nice enough guy… maybe too nice sometimes. But he's kinda… weird."

"Weird, how?" Bri questioned at a whisper.

"Well… let's just say we'll be lucky if he doesn't take his shirt off. And you can't let him see me!" He insisted.

"Why not?"

Ed shuddered. "If he sees me, he'll try to hug me which wouldn't be that bad except that his hugs are sorta… painful. They don't call him the Strong Arm Alchemist for nothing!"

Bri had to stifle a laugh at her friend's explanation. "Don't worry, Ed. The class is full. I don't think he'll see you if you just stay low and don't say anything."

"Right… I've keep my mouth shut and hope I get out of here alive."

Major Armstrong's presentation of the long history of the State Alchemy program was accompanied by dramatic gestures and poses. He even regaled the class with his own rendition of _Be Thou for the People_, the Old State Alchemist Hymn which hadn't been used in any official capacity in more than thirty years. Ed didn't even know it existed.

After this, the Strong Arm Alchemist did a "small", or rather, smallish demonstration for the class which involved the chalkboard and one large, sparkly fist. Then he went into further details about the process of becoming a State Alchemist – the test and the rules and regulations surrounding it.

"Finally, all candidates for the State Alchemy program must be at least eighteen years of age – or be turning eighteen within one year of achieving certification."

Ed already knew all of this, but he found himself wishing that law didn't exist. He was only twelve. He'd have to wait six more years to become a State Alchemist. It seemed like a long time.

A hand went up near the front of the room – a fifth year, Ed thought – and Major Armstrong called on the boy.

"My dad told me there was once a State Alchemist who received certification when he was younger – like twelve or something."

"I remember that!" A seventh year student called out before the Major could respond. "I was really little at the time but I remember hearing stories about a kid alchemist. They called him the 'Hero of the People' because he actually followed that motto you were singing about."

"Ah! Yes!"Armstrong replied. "Then you have heard about Edward Elric, The Fullmetal Alchemist!"

Ed sat up straight and gaped at the large man in the front of the room. _Fullmetal? That's what Dad called me – and in my dreams… It can't be a coincidence._ He leaned forward to listen carefully. This was important. Maybe he could finally learn something that would help him figure out what his dreams were about.

"Did you know him, Major?" a third year girl asked.

"Yes, indeed! It was my great pleasure to have known Major Elric during his time with the State. He was quite the talented young man – a true genius with alchemy."

A sixth year boy raised his hand. "I heard he died. Is that why they have the age restrictions now?"

The Major frowned and seemed sad for a moment but he responded with an authoritative voice. "Major Elric was declared Missing in Action some years ago. There was no evidence to indicate that he had, in fact, been killed. But to answer your question, yes. The age restriction law was put in place largely due to the circumstances surrounding the Fullmetal Alchemist's disappearance."

There were several moments of silence after this answer and Armstrong appeared to become lost in thought until a student asked another question.

"Is it true that he could do alchemy without a transmutation circle?"

"That's impossible!" Ed said aloud, before remembering that he was supposed to hiding. He hunkered down a bit. Fortunately, several other students were echoing his exclamation and the Major didn't seem to notice him.

"Ah! But he could!" Armstrong refuted their protests, pleased to return to a less depressing topic. "Major Elric had a rare gift in alchemy which allowed him to transmute any object simply by clapping his hands."

Ed frowned. _That can't be right… transmutations are done using a transmutation circle – that's the only way to channel the energy from the earth and yet…_ Ed slowly brought his hands in front of him, placing his palms together and considering them for a moment. The first thing he noted was the stark contrast between the flesh of his left hand and the automail of his right. He'd never really paid attention to it before – how different they were. He'd become so used to his automail arm already that he'd almost forgotten how he'd lived most of his life without it. And it surprised him – how right, how normal it felt to see flesh pressed against metal in front of him.

Shaking off the sudden tangent his thoughts had taken, Ed focused again on how it might be possible to transmute by clapping hands. The realization came to him suddenly. _When I press my hands together like this… I make a circle with my arms and my body – well, sort of anyway. Is it possible for someone to use their own body as a transmutation circle? _

"I heard that he had automail. Is that true?" A student's voice cut through the haze of Ed's thoughts.

"Yes! It is true! Major Elric received two automail limbs after a tragic childhood accident – his left leg and his right arm." Major Armstrong replied.

"Hey! That's just like you, Ed!" Bri spoke up suddenly.

All eyes turned towards the boy in the back row, including those of the Strong Arm Alchemist. Ed blinked, realizing what had just happened, and his eyes widened in horror.

"Bri!" he hissed to his friend as he fought every instinct so as to remain sitting upright instead of cowering beneath his desk like he wanted to.

His friend had the grace to realize her mistake. She blushed and bit her lip before muttering, "Sorry, Ed."

But it was too late. Major Armstrong had already seen him and Ed braced himself for the inevitable, squashing embrace.

The Major stood silent for a moment, his eyes wide with alarm before he recovered and plastered an overly warm smile on his face. "Young Edward Mustang!" he said enthusiastically, his voice pitched slightly higher than it had been before. "I did not realize that you were in the group. How good it is to see you!"

Ed offered a feeble smile. "Hello, Major Armstrong." He replied meekly.

There was an awkward pause and Ed wondered for a moment if the large man was considering the difficulty in reaching Edward by plowing his way through the group of students in front of him. Surely the Major wouldn't… someone might get hurt. Hoping to prevent this from happening, Ed decided to throw out a question of his own.

"Major, can you explain more about how the Fullmetal Alchemist used alchemy without a transmutation circle?"

Armstrong opened his mouth, then closed it again, then opened it, and finally began to speak rather quickly. "No, no, I'm afraid I don't know any more on that than I have already told you. Now, I fear that we have gotten far off topic and I would like to redirect us back to the subject at hand – EVALUATION TESTING! Every year a state alchemist must submit a review of his work to maintain his state certification…"

Ed blinked, baffled. It wasn't like the Major to so blatantly evade a question. Armstrong loved to share any knowledge he happened to have – because the tradition of sharing knowledge had been passed down through the Armstrong family line for generations – or so Ed had been told. Not only that, but the man was far too obvious about not answering and about changing the subject, like he was nervous about it or something. It didn't make any sense. He'd been perfectly happy to talk about it before. Ed's question wasn't any different from the other questions that had been asked. But the Major didn't want to talk about it anymore and Ed had the distinct impression that it had something to do with his own presence in the room. Major Armstrong was hiding something from him – something to do with the Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

When Ed got home that afternoon, he went straight to his room and pulled out his notebook to write.

_The Fullmetal Alchemist earned his state certification at age twelve – same age as I am now. He could transmute without a circle – that shouldn't be possible. Might have something to do with using the body as a circle – clapping. He was some kind of alchemic genius or prodigy. He had two automail limbs just like mine – childhood accident… that doesn't seem right. It wasn't an accident. It was a mistake. How do I know that? Major Armstrong knew him personally. Did Dad know him? Is that why he calls me Fullmetal – because I have automail and he did too? Is that really why Dad calls me Fullmetal or does it have some other meaning? Is it just a coincidence? Major Elric is MIA – probably dead after this long. Major Elric – no, Edward Elric – Edward is my name. If Dad knew him – if they were close… am I named after him? Need to find out more information. What year did he become a State Alchemist? When did he go missing? _

Ed stopped writing. His thoughts were taking him around in circles but without more information he couldn't actually get anywhere. But where could he get more information on a dead alchemist? _I could ask Dad… no, not over the phone. Mom might know but… _He shook his head. _They'd both ask too many questions. Why am I asking? Why am I curious? I don't want to answer those right now. I need to figure this out on my own._

He smiled. There was one place where he could always find the information he needed – the one place he always went when he wanted to learn something on his own – the library. Ed glanced at the clock. 4:17 The library closed at five. He went to the window and looked outside. It had started snowing on their way home and it was even harder now. There was no way he could walk and make it there before it closed and his mom wouldn't want to drive in this weather unless it was absolutely necessary.

Ed chewed on his lip, wondering if it would be possible to convince his mother that a trip to the library was necessary after only one day back at school. He didn't have any projects or assignments due yet and he didn't want to make something up. He didn't want to tell her the real reason either, though.

He sighed and decided that the library would have to wait till tomorrow. But perhaps there were some books here in the house that could help him.

He went to his bookshelf and started glancing over titles. He'd read everything in his room several times over and thought he'd remember if there'd been any mention of the Fullmetal Alchemist in any of them. But maybe he'd missed something. He considered each book for a moment, tracing through the chapters by memory – but most of the books were too old to include anything about Fullmetal and the newer ones focused on alchemic theory and not on individual alchemists. He couldn't recall a single chapter with even the potential to mention the young alchemist.

But he wasn't giving up. Picking up his crutch, he hobbled out of his room only to almost trip over Lilyate who'd been lying in front of the door.

"Whoa! Sorry, Lily." He said. Lily, who didn't even seem to notice almost being stepped on, got up and yapped happily at her master's heels. Ed couldn't help but laugh. The dog had been a great comfort to him over the past week – keeping him company while he'd been sick and helping him forget about all of the crazy thoughts that were rambling though his head. "C'mon, girl! Help me find the book I'm looking for."

Lilyate trotted after him, eager to please, and Ed pushed his way into his father's home office. It was a small room with book shelves lining every wall and a desk in one corner. His dad used it whenever he had to bring work home with him and needed a quiet place to do it. Ed often came in and read while he was working just to be close to him.

The books on Roy Mustang's shelves were almost as well-read as Ed's own. The boy had poured through all of the alchemical texts and most of the history books. History wouldn't help much – the Fullmetal Alchemist was too recent. Ed wondered if Fullmetal had come up with any theories which might be included in the newer alchemic journals. As he was scanning them, he had a sudden thought and his eyes turned to the shelf he rarely touched. It contained mostly military files and documents, stored in large folders which were neatly labeled for easy access.

Ed had never been told he wasn't allowed to read the files. He'd never really been interested in them so he'd never asked. But he'd always kind of assumed they weren't his to touch. Those were his dad's work. They were important. Some of them were probably top secret. But they might just contain exactly what Ed was looking for.

His feet carried him across the room without him noticing and his eyes began to pour over the labels. Most of them were about missions or held important documents. He passed over those. He needed something about people – about alchemists.

_State Alchemist – Personnel Files _

That was it. Surely this would have what he was looking for – information of the Fullmetal Alchemist. He reached for it and started to pull it off of the shelf.

BANG!

Ed jumped, pushing the folder back into its spot and spinning around quickly. He felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and he mentally berated himself. He shouldn't be poking around in his dad's stuff. Those files were for the military. They weren't for him.

The guilty feeling rose as he looked up, expecting to see his mother standing in the doorway. But she wasn't there. Ed frowned and glanced around the room, searching for the culprit of the startling sound.

Lily was sitting next to the desk looking up at him innocently. Beside her, a heavy looking box lay turned over on its side with a large number of small papers spilling out.

Ed sighed. "Lily… what did you do?" He walked over to the mess his dog had made, intent on cleaning it up.

"Ed? Is everything okay?" He heard his mother call down the hallway.

He looked up. "Yeah, Mom! Lilyate just knocked something over. I'm cleaning it up." He called back.

Turning back to the box, he righted it and started picking up the papers. "What are these, anyway?" He turned one over. "Photographs?" The picture in his hand showed a man Ed didn't recognize, probably someone his dad had worked with. He flipped over another and smiled. "Hey, check it out, Lily! It's Dad when he was just a colonel. Hmm… Colonel Mustang. It sounds better than General, don't you think? General sounds too stuffy. Kinda makes wish I'd known him as a Colonel. He was promoted when I was really little so I don't remember."

He turned over another photo and froze. "That's…" he stared at the picture. It was a whole group of people. He recognized most of them – _Mom, Dad, Uncle Vato, Uncle Jean, Uncle Kain, Uncle Heymans, and that's… that's my armor…_ It was bigger though – towering over the group in the back of the picture. This is what caught his eye initially. It didn't make sense. What was a life-size version of his model suit of armor doing in a picture of dad's team? Is that… Al?

There was another figure in the picture and Ed's eyes darted to it for only a moment before going back to the armor. He was so fixated on that one shape that his mind took a moment to register what he'd seen. Then his eyes flew open wide and he stood up, carrying the photo to the desk so that he could look at it under the light. He flipped on the desk lamp and leaned in close.

In the left hand corner of the picture, there was a boy who looked none too happy to be there. His right arm – an automail arm, Ed dimly noted – was firmly held in the grip of Colonel Roy Mustang so that the boy couldn't escape. The look on his face was one of pure exasperation and anger. The Colonel was smirking lazily as if to say, _"Get in here, Fullmetal. If I have to take this picture then so do you."_ But these weren't the things that Ed really noticed.

Ed noticed the eyes – they were golden, like his own. He saw the hair – long golden blond pulled back in a braid. He discerned the shape of the face – so familiar… too familiar… he saw it every day in the mirror. The face was his own.

The picture dropped from his fingertips but he didn't take his eyes off of the image.

_It can't be… this picture is old. Dad is just a colonel and the boy… he's as old as I am now. We've never taken a picture like that. But that's… that's me… _He admitted it to himself and knew that it was true. It didn't make any sense, but it was true.

_That's me… but who is he? Who am I?_ The thought was startling. He knew who he was! He was Edward Mustang, son of Roy and Riza Mustang. He was twelve years old and a first year at Central Academy. He was best friends with Brianna Knox and Kale Turing. He wasn't this boy in the picture!

But he was…

He shook his head and almost dove back to the box on the ground. He needed more. He needed to find more evidence – something to make sense of it all. He sorted through the pictures quickly and found another. This one was noticeably wrinkled as though someone had spent a lot of time looking at it, holding it, taking it out and putting it away again. There were two figures on the front – one was the same suit of armor he'd seen in the other photo, now standing slightly behind the second, much shorter figure which looked far too much like Ed's own reflection.

There was no dragging or scowling in this picture. The boy was slightly older looking. He stood on his own, smirking cockily for the camera. He wore a bright red coat over a black shirt and pants.

Ed had never worn those clothes before. He knew that and yet… they also seemed familiar, like he could see himself wearing them every day. He reached up and ran his fingers through his still uncut hair. It was still too short, he felt. It needed to be longer – long enough to braid.

He suddenly noticed that he was breathing heavily and that heart was beating wildly in his chest. He gulped, still unsure, unable to understand what was right in front of him, staring him in the face. He needed to know who this boy was – the one in the picture who looked just like him – but he wasn't sure he wanted to. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and he had two choices. He could back up onto the safety of solid ground – he could pack up the pictures and leave the room, go back and burn his notes and try to forget the dreams and the visions and everything else – that would be safe. Everything would go back to normal.

Or… or he could jump. He could turn the picture over and read the words he knew were written there – the words, written in his mother's fine hand, which would identify the people in the picture, would let him know for sure who that boy was and if the crazy, insane thoughts that were buzzing through his head were correct.

He knew… he knew that if he did that, if he read those words, there would be no going back. His life would change and he didn't know how – if it would be good or bad or somewhere in between. But it would change. And suddenly, he was terrified. He wanted to run away. He wanted to make it all stop and go back in time to before this ever started. He'd go back and forgo the automail if that was what it would take.

He wished his father was there. He knew his mom was home. He could call her. He could get her right now and they could do this together… or not do it. Maybe she could decide. She could decide for him, whether to look or to pack it all away and pretend it never happened. But then… what if she did put it away? And then the questions continued to eat at him until he really did go crazy? He didn't know if he could handle that. He needed to know. He needed to jump… but he wished his father was there.

He remembered a day when he was very young – his dad had taken him to a park with a large slide and Ed had climbed to the very top. He'd stopped there, looking down, unable to go any further until his dad came up and joined him.

"_It's too high. I can't do it."_

"_Do you want to go back down the ladder?"_

"_No! I have to go down the slide! But… I can't."_

"_I'll go down first. Then I can catch you at the bottom." _

He wished his father was there this time to catch him at the bottom and tell him everything would be okay. But he wasn't there. He was in Xoporor. He'd left him.

Ed felt the anger boil up inside him again and this time he didn't squash it. He used it. He funneled it into his will power. He would jump. He would jump and he wouldn't need anyone to catch him at the bottom. He didn't need him. He could do it on his own.

He turned the picture over.

There were the words, in his mother's elegant script – the words that changed everything.

_Alphonse Elric and Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, 1914_

And then he was falling.

The boy in the picture was the Fullmetal Alchemist.

The boy in the picture was Edward Elric.

The boy in the picture was him, Ed Mustang.

It was all true.

A equals B equals C.

_Edward Elric is Ed Mustang._

_Ed Mustang is Edward Elric._

_I am Edward Elric._

"I am the Fullmetal Alchemist."


	7. in which Ed cries

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** A sad title for a sad chapter. I honestly couldn't think of anything else to call it and it's late and I'm tired after a long day of work but I stayed up to write this anyway cause I told myself I'd start it tonight and once I got started I just had to finish. So I hope you enjoy this early chapter. It wasn't supposed to be done till tomorrow .

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 7, in which Ed cries**

"I am the Fullmetal Alchemist."

The evidence was staring him in the face with eyes identical to his own; but even without that, he knew. The moment the words left his mouth, he knew. He knew with every fiber of his being, every ounce of self awareness that those words were true. In fact, the only part of him that was against the idea was that damned logical part of his brain that was desperately trying to argue that it was impossible.

It _was_ impossible.

But it was also true.

It was too _right_ to not be true. It fell so simply from his lips – he knew it as well as he knew that his name was Ed – he dared not think Ed _Mustang_ now. That would be opening a whole other can of worms that he wasn't quite ready to deal with.

_Mustang… Elric… no! Just Ed… just Ed for now. Ed is Fullmetal. Let's get past that first._

He had to break it down. That was the only way he could keep himself from drowning. The elements were all there but they were swirling around in his mind too quickly for him to focus. Thoughts were flowing in and out of consciousness in a jumbled mess of hysteria. He needed to find control. He needed something steady – something that was unchanging, constant, regardless of who he was.

_Alchemy! _

He found it and held on tightly.

_It's alchemy. Understanding… deconstruction… and reconstruction. _He took a deep breath. _Except, I don't understand. That's what I'm trying to do! Understand what's going on here… No, I don't have to understand the solution. I have to understand the elements. What are they? What am I working with? _

_Facts! What I know to be true and not true. I have to establish the facts. After that I can work on deconstruction and reconstruction. I can take each piece apart and put it back together again so that it makes sense. _

With this decision in mind, Ed stood up, hastily shoved the remaining pictures back in their box before setting in back on the shelf, and left the room, the two incriminating photos still clutched tightly in his left hand.

He hurried back to his own room, oblivious to the fact that he'd left his crutch in the study. He was too caught up in his thoughts to notice the slight twinge of pain from the port on his leg. He shut the door firmly, but didn't slam it – it wouldn't do for his mother to look in on him right now. He needed to focus.

Sitting down at his desk, he looked again at the notes he'd made less than twenty minutes before – what he knew to be true about the Fullmetal Alchemist. He read through them twice, then a third time, glancing at the photos every so often to verify his information.

Everything he'd written seemed to be accurate – it was a starting point. He could work with that.

Ed picked up his pen, prepared to write, but paused. _Just the facts,_ he told himself_. Don't worry about emotions yet. Stay focused, Ed. _He began writing.

_I am the Fullmetal Alchemist. _

_What evidence supports this theory? We look identical – gold hair, gold eyes, same facial structure. Picture supports description. Few differences – both pictures: longer hair. Mine's not that long yet. Something… off in the eyes – I don't recognize that look in myself. 1914 picture – older, a bit taller, features more defined. _

He paused to turn the first picture over and check for a description. There was one – though not very detailed. It didn't contain the names of every person in the photo. Rather it defined them simply as _Colonel Mustang's Team – 1911._

_He is younger in the team picture – closer to my current looks so probably around the same age as I am now. He became a State Alchemist when he was twelve so photo was probably taken not long afterwards._

"_We need a new team picture."_ Uncle Jean's voice cut into his musings. He put his pen down. _"This one doesn't include Chief."_

"_We should include Alphonse as well – he's here so often, he's like an honorary member." _That was Uncle Kain's voice.

_No… Fuery. Why do I want to call him Fuery? _And suddenly it dawned on Ed, what was happening. _It's a memory! They're all memories but not ones I should have – not ones I could have had in this lifetime. _

_I remember being Fullmetal… at least, bits and pieces of it. And what's there is all a jumbled mess. It shouldn't even be possible to begin with!_

He shook his head and went back to his notes. He needed to write it all down. That was the only way he could hope to make sense of it. He had to get it out of his head and written down on something physical so as to redirect himself from the abstract to the concrete.

_I have memories of being the Fullmetal Alchemist, but not all – just parts. How is this? Am I truly him or do I simply poses his memories somehow? I feel… I feel that I am him. It just seems true, although it shouldn't be possible and there is little evidence to support this theory beyond the photographs… it's a gut feeling and Dad says it's good to trust your gut so… but how? _

_Is it just my soul? Something like reincarnation? No… even if I believed in something like that it wouldn't make sense. Reincarnated people aren't supposed to look like their predecessor. They can be "born again" as anyone, right? Anything even. Don't know much about it but I think I'm right. I look just like Fullmetal – right down to the missing limbs. That suggests that I _am_ him – body and soul – every part of me is also him, or used to be him, or… something. _

He stopped to read over what he had written – a lot of words to establish very little. But it seemed to be helping. He was calmer, more focused.

_In 1914, Fullmetal was approximately 15 years old. I was born in 1915. Sometime between whenever this photo was taken and when I was born, Fullmetal went missing. I was then adopted by then Colonel Roy Mustang, Fullmetal's superior – Why?_

That one question made him stop completely and push himself back from the desk a bit. _Why the hell would Colonel Bastard adopt me?_ He blinked, baffled by the crudeness of his own thoughts – especially the derogatory name directed at his father – but he didn't try to censor them. This wasn't the time.

"He was my superior." He said to himself, suddenly feeling the need to voice his thoughts. "He didn't… he doesn't even _like_ me." These words – like his earlier ones – were acknowledged to be true even as they were being spoken. It was simultaneously surprising and not at all astonishing to Ed.

He shook his head. "No, he's… my dad. Of course he likes me." _He loves me_… A small, embarrassed part of him – fueled by sudden thoughts of animosity towards _Colonel_ Mustang – kept him from saying this last thought out loud. "He adopted me. He chose me – that's what he said, but…"

He drifted off, lost once more in his thoughts. _What if there was some other reason? What if it all comes back to me being the Fullmetal Alchemist and he… _"He knew!" Ed almost shouted the realization, standing up and bracing his hands against the desk. "He knew! He knows! He has to know! That's why he called me Fullmetal. He knows that I am him. That's why he gets so weird sometimes. And not just him! Mom too – not as often and she's better at hiding it but I've seen it in her eyes too. And in Uncle Jean's and Heymans' and Vato's and Kain's. Armstrong had that look in his eyes just today! That explains why he shut up when he realized that I was there! He's in on it! They're all in on it and they've been lying to me my whole life! Even Winry's in on it! That's why she cried that first day in Resembool! She cried because I'm Fullmetal! She –" he stopped, his mouth moving slowly but no sound coming out.

"No…" All of the indignation he was feeling at being lied to suddenly rushed out of him and left him drained. He fell back into his seat and sat there, unmoving but for the slow shaking of his head as a new memory stuck him.

_"I said the next time I make you cry I hope they'll be tears of joy and Al and I will be in our normal bodies and I'll make you cry out of sheer happiness!" _

"She didn't cry because I'm Fullmetal…" he whispered. "She cried because I'm Edward Elric... we grew up together – in Resembool. She was my best friend and I promised that I'd never make her cry again. But I broke my promise. I made her cry… because I never came home and I never…" he held up his automail hand and flexed the fingers in front of him.

He'd been so happy to get his automail a few months ago. He'd lived for twelve years with rudimentary prosthetics and in all that time it never occurred to him that he wasn't supposed to not have a right arm and left leg. He thought he'd been born that way or that he'd lost them as a baby – no one had ever actually told him and he'd never really asked. He'd just accepted it as something that was and couldn't be changed.

Even now, knowing that he was Fullmetal and that Fullmetal had lost his limbs in some kind of traumatic childhood event, he couldn't for the life of him remember what that was other than that it wasn't an accident. "It was a mistake… a stupid mistake and if was my fault and I was supposed to fix it. I was supposed to get my arm back, and my leg, and…" his eyes widened in horror. "Al…"

His mind made a frantic jump and he leaned forward towards his desk once more, pulling the two pictures towards him and staring at the suit of armor that stood so casually in both. His eyes then darted to his bedside table and the miniature version which still stood there. Hastily, he stood to retrieve it. Placing the statue on his desk, just behind the two pictures, he stared at the three images – his eyes flitting from one to another to another and back again.

He knew who this was. He knew it just as well as he knew himself – with such clarity, such certainty that it didn't seem possible for him to have forgotten. But he had. He had forgotten his brother. He had forgotten Alphonse. And now that he remembered him…

He couldn't breathe properly – it came in short gasps and he found himself pulling at his hair, yanking at it and then smacking his left palm against his head to try and force his brain to work correctly. He tried only once to do the same with his automail but some survival instinct reminded him that knocking himself out wouldn't help the situation – this thought was only dimly recognized however as he groaned and pulled his legs up into his chest, curling around them in anguish.

"Where is he?!" he finally voiced, having had no luck in forcing his mind to cooperate. "Where's Al?! Why? Why can't I remember?! I need to find him! Twelve years! It's been twelve years! Where is he? I promised! I promised that I'd get his body back – Why?! Why am I here? Why am I not with Al?"

He needed answers and since his memory was not forthcoming his mind made a leap to another possible source inspired by one smirking face in the 1911 'team' picture. "Colonel!" He shot to his feet, feeling momentarily relieved at the prospect of finding someone who had the answers. "The Colonel will know! He'll be able to tell me what happened and where I can find Al and – "

He stopped mere inches from the door, his hand extended to grab the knob, as he remembered where he was and who he was and who wasn't there at the moment. He almost laughed. It wasn't funny. But the hysteria of the past few minutes had left him feeling broken and suddenly the whole situation seemed comical.

"There is no Colonel…" he muttered through a shaky chuckle. "He's a General now. He hasn't been a Colonel in years." He tried to breathe slowly but it turned into something between a laugh and a sob. "Not only that, but he's my dad… he's my freaking dad! And he's known all of this – this whole time. He's known who I am and what happened to me and he never – he never bothered to tell me. I've been living a lie. My whole life is just a cover up for some… something – I don't even know what! – that happened to me twelve years ago. I can't… Damn it, I can't remember. And I can't ask him! I can't ask any of them. They've been lying to me for years. Why would they tell me now?"

He turned around but instead of walking back to his desk, he leaned heavily against the wall beside his door. And then, as the weight of all of his problems descended upon him, he slid down the wall to sit on the floor with his head cradled in his hands and his knees drawn up to his chest. He felt a few warm tears slide down his cheeks and didn't bother to stop them. It was all too much. He couldn't handle it. His whole body shuddered as he slowly rocked back and forth against the wall.

"Even if I wanted to ask him… I couldn't. Cause he's not here... He's not here." And then he cried.

Ed didn't know how long he sat there. At some point his tears dried up and he felt himself go numb – no thoughts, no feelings, no anything. He knew he'd have to deal with it all again soon but he needed a break and this was his brains way of keeping him sane in the long run. There was just too much to deal with all at once. He needed to slow down and until he could figure out how, he would stay like this.

Unfortunately, he didn't get the chance to finish figuring that out because his numbness was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door and his mother's voice. "Ed, it's time for dinner."

He didn't respond. His brain was still trying to process her words.

"Ed?" his mother called again and this time she pushed the door open a few inches. Ed gasped, realizing that his mother was going to come in, that she was going to see what he'd discovered. He stood up quickly, hoping to keep her from coming in all of the way, but he only succeeded in making himself lightheaded. He'd have fallen down if his mother wasn't there to steady him, a surprised and concerned look in her eyes as she studied his face.

"Ed? What are you doing? Are you alright?"

Ed tensed slightly as he realized who was holding him upright. _Lieutenant Hawkeye, no… Mom… either way, she lied to me just like everybody else. I don't want her here and I don't need her to help me. But I can't let her know that I know. I have to pretend everything is okay._

He gathered his footing and stepped back a bit, not far enough to really let her into the room but enough to extricate himself from her grasp. "I'm fine." He tried to say casually, though it came out sounding terse even to his own ears. "I'm not really that hungry." He added quickly in what he hoped was a normal voice. Maybe if he told her that, she would go and leave him alone.

Riza frowned and narrowed her eyes at her son. Even in his dimly lit room, she could discern the redness of his eyes and the wet tracks that had trailed down his cheeks. "Ed, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He protested far too quickly and he wasn't fast enough to evade her hand as it reached out and came to rest on his forehead.

She held it there for a moment and then pulled away. "The fevers back." she sighed. "I thought you were over it but I guess not. You probably shouldn't have gone to school today."

Ed's eyes widened. She thought he was sick! Well… maybe he was if the fever was any indication and he really did feel awful at the moment but she thought it was all part of the illness he'd suffered that weekend. She had no idea what he'd discovered and Ed intended to keep it that way. He could work with this.

He let himself cough a bit. It wasn't really faked. His throat was still choked up from crying. "Yeah, probably not. I don't feel very good."

Riza nodded and offered a loving smile, causing Ed to feel a moment of guilt for lying to his mother, but he pushed it aside. She'd been lying to him, after all. "Let me put you to bed, then." She said, taking a step into the room.

"Wait!" Ed's eyes darted to his desk where the evidence of what he knew was still sprawled. He forced another cough to distract from his moment of panic. "I can get in bed myself. I…" he thought for a moment. He wouldn't be able to keep her away for long but he only needed a minute. "I could really use a glass of water. Could you bring me one?"

"Of course, dear. I'll be right back."

Riza disappeared down the hallway and Ed breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't have long though so he quickly shuffled to his desk and stuffed the two photos into his journal. He carried the book to his shelf and slid it between to heavier tomes where it wouldn't be noticed. Returning to the desk, his eyes lingered on the statue of Alphonse and he felt another rush of tears prickle behind his eyes. He blinked them back. He couldn't let his mother see. Still, he couldn't bring himself to leave the figure there. He didn't know where his brother was but he needed to be somehow close to him – even if only through the image of his armor.

He was in the process of carrying the armor back to his bedside table when his mother returned.

"I thought you were getting in bed." She said, coming up beside him with the water he requested. She paused when she saw what was in his hands.

Ed shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "I was, but I wanted to put this here because… because…" he wasn't sure how to explain it in a way that would make sense to her but wasn't the truth. _I can't tell her it's because I know about Al._

Luckily he didn't need to explain. "Because it reminds you of your father." Riza finished for him. Her words surprised Ed and he almost denied them. That had nothing to do with it. But he realized that it was easier to just go with it.

"Yeah…" he muttered.

His mother ruffled his hair and Ed suppressed the urge to swipe her hand away. "I know you miss him." She said. "He'll be back soon."

Ed wished it were that simple. He wished it could all be fixed that easily. But suddenly he found himself dreading his father's return.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he adjusted his miniature 'Al' on the nightstand and crawled sat down on his bed. He watched as his mother reached out to touch the figure gently. He had to suppress a scowl. She had no right –

"It really is a beautiful piece – one of the best you and your father have ever done together."

Ed didn't want to think about his father. He didn't want to notice the nostalgic look that overcame his mother's eyes as she gazed at the statue and know that she was thinking about Al. He just wanted her to go away. So, faking a yawn which turned into a real one, he rolled over on his side and pulled the covers up to his chin. "I'm really tired." He said shortly.

He heard Riza move but didn't turn to look at her. "Of course." She said. "I'll let you get some sleep. I'll be back to check on you before I go to bed. Good night, Ed."

He didn't respond. He listened to her move across the room. He heard the click of the lamp on his desk and the room darkened. He followed her footsteps out the door and down the hall. Only then did he turn back to face the statue of his brother. Only then did he allow the tears to come once again.


	8. in which you must first train the body

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

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**A.N. ** Sorry this came so late… and it's on the short side. But see, this is why I never promise any sort of consistent update schedule – I'm bound to break it if I do. Not a lot happens in this chapter but it is building up to something. Roy will be coming home in either the next chapter or the one after and I'm looking forward to that scene. Also, thank you for all of your reviews. They really do encourage me to keep writing.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

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**Chapter 7, in which you must first train the body**

Ed stayed home for the remainder of the week. It wasn't hard to continue to feign illness. He'd never faked being sick before and so his mother had no reason to doubt him. But beyond that, he genuinely appeared to be ill. The stress his mind was enduring was wearing on him physically. He looked exhausted and weak and it was no wonder! He wasn't eating well – only picking at his meals really – and he wasn't sleeping much at all. Most often at night he would lay in bed for hours, staring into the darkness, his mind far too active to settle enough to allow sleep. What little sleep he did manage – after passing out from exhaustion – was tormented by dreams.

Now that he knew what they were – true memories and not just random visions produced by an overactive imagination – they came to his mind more readily, more vividly, and – sometimes – horrifyingly. The night that he dreamed of Nina Tucker he became physically ill, eliminating what little food he'd managed to ingest that day. By the time his nausea had subsided, he could no longer remember what the dream had been about beyond that it centered on the little pigtailed girl.

That was the problem with the dreams; as far as actually regaining his memory went, they were useless. He couldn't retain enough of them upon waking to actually do anything with them. What he managed to remember during the day wasn't much more helpful. He mostly got impressions of things – a face here, a voice there, a few scattered phrases – nothing concrete.

He tried to make sense of it – wracking his brain for the missing details he knew were lingering just beyond his awareness. He wrote down everything he could in his journal, reading and re-reading them over and over again to see if there was something he missed – if there was some miraculous way to put it all together. And he needed to put it together. If he couldn't regain his memories then there was no chance of him finding Alphonse – not after twelve years. He needed something to start from.

But it was like trying to put together a five thousand piece puzzle with half of the pieces missing. There was no rhyme or reason to what was and wasn't there. Some things seemed important – a man with a scarred face, a place called Liore – others were inconsequential – eating a doughnut in the Colonel's office, fixing someone's balcony with alchemy – and some were just plain infuriating – _Too many people calling me short!_

The emotions that seemed to be attached to everything weren't helping – especially not the anger. Ed wasn't used to feeling that much anger. He'd never had a reason to become that angry over things. He'd been teased all of his life for various reasons – mostly for his missing limbs or for being a book worm – and while it was frustrating and upsetting he'd never let it get to the point of becoming truly angry about it. The people who said those things were stupid and he had too much self-confidence to allow their words to get to him. His parents had taught him that.

But that self-confidence had been wiped away in the moment that he realized he didn't actually know who he was. It was terrifying and confusing. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. And anger… anger seemed like a safe emotion compared to a lot of the others. He could do something with anger. It didn't cripple him the way that the depression and anguish, which came along with other memories, did.

But emotion in general made it hard to think, hard to concentrate. He tried various techniques to open up his mind and access the memories but failure after failure only seemed to frustrate him further.

His mother was hovering. He couldn't really blame her for being concerned. He knew he looked awful and while his general symptoms had mostly been mild, neither she nor Dr. Knox could figure out what was wrong with him. Riza had called the doctor after Ed's bout of nausea. She was really starting to worry but Bri's father didn't seem all that concerned.

"Rest and fluids." The good doctor prescribed. "I can't say exactly what wrong but it's probably just the same bug still lingering in his system."

Of course, Ed hadn't exactly been helpful with the diagnosis process. He was hesitant to share too much and so he clammed up – claiming fatigue and a headache, both of which were true. But Ed knew that he wasn't really sick anyway. He was just stressed and confused and his body was showing that in such a way that he appeared to be sick. And Ed was okay with that because it meant he could stay home. He wasn't ready to go back to school. In fact, the very prospect was somewhat horrifying. He didn't know who he was anymore. How could he be expected to know how to behave around an entire school full of students and teachers? Especially when his brain was already far too full and far too confused for him to actually focus on anything. No, it was better that he stayed home.

But his mother was still a problem. She went in and out of his room throughout the first day, checking on him, bringing him food and water. Only days ago, Ed had been more than happy to allow his mother to spoil him rotten. Now he just felt guilty and a bit angry at her near-constant presence. He couldn't get anything done while she was there. His journal remained hidden on the shelf and Ed hated the fact that he couldn't start getting his thoughts out of his head and down on paper.

On the second day, he all but kicked his mother out of the house. He insisted that she needed to go back to work, that she couldn't afford to take any more time off for his sake. Yes, he was still sick but no, he didn't need her to check up on him all of the time. He just needed some rest and she needed to work. That's what he told her and she eventually relented upon his promise to call her if he needed anything.

With his mother out of the house, Ed was able to get to work. But his work proved futile. For three days he tried to remember more and to reason out the little bit that he already knew. But his mind refused to cooperate.

On Friday, Ed came to a few conclusions.

The first was that he could not force the memories. They did not return to him according to his bidding but seemed to do whatever they please – flitting in and out of his mind and random intervals, often not long enough for Ed to fully grasp them through the haze.

No, he needed to let them come naturally. But that did not mean he would be passive about it and just sit back and wait for his mind to cooperate. Rather, he had to be proactive in nurturing his brain into a rich soil in which the memories could more easily take root.

He remembered the words of his teacher, Izumi Curtis.

Indeed, he did not feel as though he had ever actually forgotten them. So often had he repeated them to himself and so assuredly ingrained they were into his mind that it seemed as though he had always known them even though he'd had no reason to put them to use. They'd seemed to him like a common idiom such as "an apple a day keeps the doctor away." Thus, it wasn't so much the words that he remembered now, but rather, the person who spoke them.

"_To train the mind, you must first train the body."_

This wasn't alchemy, but he figured that the rule applied in other cases as well and it definitely seemed to fit into his current situation. His mind was a mess but his body was too. He was sick and weak and exhausted and these things were not conducive to a establishing a healthy mind. He needed to get some real sleep and eat some real food. And he needed to get in shape.

He wasn't unhealthy by any means. He was just average – a healthy average twelve year old boy with a fast metabolism who could put away half his weight in food yet maintain a lean, lanky, lithe body without even trying. But very little of what weight he did have could feasibly be counted as muscle mass.

Given that both of his parents were military officer, he could hardly believe he was so out of shape. He began to wonder why they had never insisted upon some type of physical training for him beyond what was necessary for his prosthetics maintenance and now his automail rehabilitation. He thought maybe it was because of his obvious disabilities that they never pushed for him to take part in more physical activities but it also struck him that perhaps they just wanted him to be a normal kid.

Despite Ed's declaration at a young age that he was going to be a State Alchemist like his father, his parents had never pushed him towards that goal. Rather they tended to steer him away from the more pomp and circumstance activities engaged by most officer's children. While they insisted upon his respect, it was never with the military rigidness of a superior toward subordinate relationship. Ed knew quite a bit about military regulations and expectations. He could pull a perfect salute – granted, with the wrong hand – before he turned four. He knew how to march and how to stand and the appropriate way to address a superior officer but none of this was ever taught or enforced by his parents. He'd picked it up by himself just by spending so much time around them and around his uncles.

No, his parents had made it clear very early on that they did not expect him to follow in their footsteps. And so they had not forced him to go through any special classes or training which would help prepare him for the military. His decision to become a State Alchemist one day was entirely his own. He wondered, too, why he had never taken it upon himself to seek out that special training, given his goals. But he was only twelve. It hadn't seemed all that important before.

Now it was very important. He needed to get in shape, not just to help him remember, but so that he could go out and find his brother. He still wasn't sure how he was going to go about doing that one. It would mean leaving his home and his parents but then… he wasn't really sure Central was his home anymore.

_It's not. Resembool was my home once. I doubt it could be again but still. I'm not from Central. Does that mean I don't belong here anymore? Did I ever belong here?_

As for his parents…

_They aren't really that are they? My mother was Trisha Elric. She died when I was five. My father was… a bastard. He left. He doesn't matter. So really… I'm an orphan – an orphan who was taken in by his superior officer out of pity or some twisted sense of duty or… something…_

He didn't like to think about that. It hurt too much. It hurt because he loved his dad – his mom too, but especially his dad, the man who had raised him, tucked him in at night, stood by him through all the trials of growing up… the man who had chosen him… or so he'd thought. He hated to think that it was all fake – just the product of a lie. But when it came down to it, that's all it was and Ed didn't like the way that made him feel.

He stopped thinking and focused on the task at hand. His mom would be home in a couple of hours. Before then, he needed to have a plan of action and, to make that plan, he needed to know exactly what he was up against – in this case, it was his own body.

A week ago, he wouldn't have known how to do this. But it was like running – something so ingrained that it was almost instinctual and as soon as he thought about doing it, he knew how. Funny how there was so much that he couldn't remember and yet this came so easily. He supposed that it had something to do with there not being any emotions attached to this. It was pure analysis – understanding the composition. He needed to know the exact state of his entire body so that he could set about building it up to the state he could remember once being in.

He opened up his mind to the process and it came flooding back to him. He centered himself and turned off all other senses before focusing, one at a time, on every muscle, every tendon, every nerve ending in his body. He began with the toes in his right foot and work his way upwards, ending with the fingers in his left hand. He allowed himself to become fully aware of his strength, flexibility, sensitivity, and response time. It was a slow process but the amazing thing about this exercise was that it hardly required any movement on his part beyond the subtle constriction and release of his muscles. It was both stimulating and relaxing and as he finished he felt his mind fall back into a memory.

"_You must be fully aware of your body – its strengths and its weaknesses, its needs and desires. If you cannot accomplish this task you will be unable to continue as my pupils." Izumi Curtis' voice rang out sharply._

"_Yes, teacher!" two boys chorused._

_Ed tried to focus – he did! But the moment he thought he'd settled into the near-meditative state required, he found himself unable to shut off his senses. His eyes were closed – that helped some. But he felt like he could hear everything – birds singing, a dog barking, people gossiping in the market, Sig chopping meat, a car going by several streets away. He could smell everything too – the grass, the pasta dish Teacher was preparing for dinner, the metallic scent of blood from the butcher shop, fresh baked bread wafting over from a nearby bakery. He felt hungry. He tried to ignore it all and focus on his immediate space but then he became aware of little things – the shifting of the grass underneath where he was sitting (he tried to still his body), his own breathing (he held his breath for a moment then realized that wasn't going to work and tried instead to breath slower, softer), his own heartbeat._

Argh! I can't stop my heartbeat!_ He thought. He was just about to give up all together when he heard something else. His brother sat next to him, perfectly still and silent save for the very gentle breathing which had caught his ear. Ed imagined that Al had already figured the whole process out and was currently taking stock of his body. Well, that just wouldn't do at all. He couldn't be beaten by his baby brother! That in mind, he re-centered himself with even more determination to succeed. He could do it! He knew he could!_

Ed opened his eyes and smiled. It was the clearest and most complete memory he'd had so far. He knew exactly where he'd been even though the memory was purely sensorial. It was Dublith. _Teacher lived in Dublith. Al and I trained with her there._ And it was a happy memory. His brother was there with him – he could feel his presence there beside him and it was… reassuring in a way, as though it somehow affirmed that all of this _was_ real.

Ed didn't try to push the memory past the point at which it faded. It was enough for now and he needed to return to his task.

The results of his analysis were, by his way of thinking, dismal. Granted, in some ways he was stronger now than he had been in the past twelve years but that was nothing that couldn't be attributed to general growth and development. Compared to the fifteen years before that, he felt absolutely pathetic. Okay, so it was more like ten years because he knew he hadn't trained heavily before his mother died and he'd been really little then – but that was entirely beside the point. He knew that he was capable of much more.

He'd once been the Fullmetal Alchemist and while his memories of that time were still a jumbled mess, there were a few things he could be sure of. One of those things was the fact – reiterated by Major Armstrong during his presentation just that week – that State Alchemists had to be able to pass certain fitness examinations, especially those Alchemists who were sent out into the field and combat situations. Less was expected of State Alchemists whose primary function was research and lab work but Fullmetal hadn't been one of those. He may have been young but he was a fully capable combat alchemist who'd been sent on countless missions and faced any number of dangerous situations. These were facts which Ed could verify without any solid memories to back them up. And if that was all true then surely the Fullmetal Alchemist had to be extremely fit, with fighting skills which extended well beyond the mere use of alchemy. And Ed _did_ remember fighting. He couldn't pinpoint exactly where and with whom but he knew he'd fought and he knew he'd usually won.

_Except when I fought Al… I was never able to beat Al._

Ed wasn't sure why that knowledge comforted him. Al was a suit of armor – of course he couldn't really be beaten in a simple sparring match. Very little could actually hurt him. But then, Ed felt that the certainty of that thought extended beyond the time Al spent as a suit of armor. Even before that, Ed had never been able to beat his little brother. Al was always the better fighter. Al was stronger. And that thought brought solace to Ed's mind. Al was stronger and so, chances were, Al had survived whatever had separated the brothers in the first place. And that meant Ed could find him.

But first, he had to get back to the physical state he'd been in when he was the Fullmetal Alchemist.

His muscles were generally weak – though that could partially be attributed to spending almost two weeks in bed. Even taking that into account, however, he couldn't claim to be anything above average. He was fairly flexible but really no more than any other boy his size. Also, his reaction times were slow. He'd need to do a proper workout to make an accurate assessment of his speed, agility, and endurance but he could imagine that those were similarly weak, or average at best.

His automail was even worse. A week ago, he'd been pleased with the progress he'd made in rehabilitation and therapy. At that point everything he learned how to do with the automail was a wonder and a vast improvement from the highly limited, cable prosthetics he'd used before. But now he had at least a vague idea of what he'd been capable of before – both with automail and with his real limbs before that. And he knew he wasn't anywhere near that level as far as automail went.

Getting up to that level again wasn't going to be easy. He was still in the early stages of automail rehabilitation. His physical therapy mostly consisted of slow, controlled movements with a focus on precision rather than strength or speed. Knowing what he did now, Ed felt sure that he could pick up the pace a little. He knew, at least on some level, how the automail should work, how it should feel, how it should move. He didn't think it would take much to tap into a fuller extent of that former knowledge and use it to his benefit.

_Winry said it would take two years, minimum, to complete my rehabilitation. But I think I _can_ do it in one. It won't be easy but… I've done it before! I have! I remember that much. I can complete the therapy in one year and be ready to go out and find Al._

He knew the basic exercises that Winry already had him doing. It wasn't hard to follow the natural progression of those towards exercises of increasing difficulty and – with a little help from brief memory flashes of the first time he'd done this – Ed started to put together a more advanced training regimen for himself. He would increase the difficulty level at a faster rate but generally continue along the same course for the automail. For the rest of his body, he would begin a strength and endurance building routine – consisting of gradually longer walks, jogs, and ultimately runs, as well as push-ups, sit-ups, crunches and a complicated series of stretches designed to increase his flexibility. He'd have to come up with a new way to work on his reflexes and response times. In the past, he'd sparred with Al – but he didn't have a convenient sparring partner this time around.

Ed spent several hours working out his new program so that he'd know what to do when he got started. He re-worked it a few times to make it flow better from one form of exercise to another. Once he had it the way he wanted it, he committed it to memory. He had just finished and put everything away when he heard the front door open.

"I'm home!" His mom called and Ed heard her hanging up her coat and taking off her shoes before padding her way down the hallway towards his room. "Ed? How are you feeling?" she asked, knocking gently before pushing the door open a bit.

Ed was sitting at his desk by then, looking for all the world like he'd just been studying the algebra book which lay open in front of him. He turned and offered his mother a genuine smile. "Hey, Mom! I feel great! I think the worst of it is over." He wasn't lying. He did feel great – he had a plan of action and he knew what to do to help himself and knowing was half the battle.

Riza came forward and place one hand on her son's forehead, studying his face intently. His new-found, positive attitude must have shown through whatever visible remnants of his "illness" remained, because after a moment she smiled and nodded. "Alright, then. I'll go get started on dinner. I'm sure you're hungry."

"Starving!" He affirmed. It felt good to have his appetite back. He was going to need a lot of food to keep up with what he'd be burning off with his new routine.


	9. in which he did what!

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

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**A.N. ** For those of you who haven't been checking the story status updates on my profile, I will reiterate: blame LadyWordsmith! It's taken me several weeks to read through her entire, amazing series but I'm finally all caught up with it. So here's a really long chapter because I know you all have been waiting so patiently. After a couple chapters of Ed's introspection we are finally jumping back outside his head and interacting with the rest of the world. Kale, Les, Riza, and Roy will all be in this chapter so I'd better let you get on with the reading.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

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**Chapter 9, in which he did what?!**

It didn't take long for Ed to settle into his new exercise routine. He quickly determined that he could do most of his stretches within the privacy of his own room. He had enough floor space as long as he made sure his desk chair was pushed in and there was no laundry on the floor – his mom didn't like it when he left clothes scattered about anyway.

Taking Lilyate for walks worked well for building up leg strength, endurance, and speed – that would be awhile in coming, of course; he didn't want to risk straining his leg port again. He could go pretty far at a brisk walk though and he'd figured out that four laps around the nearby park was equivalent to one mile. His mother was used to him hanging out at the park for a couple of hours – he used to read there all the time – and she didn't need to know that the books he now brought never actually left his backpack as he worked his way up, from one, to three miles and started considering moving up to a light jog. Lilyate certainly seemed to enjoy their time at the park. She followed him loyally as he tested his limits and her presence somehow encouraged him to continue.

He tried to fit his other exercises in to his time at the park as well, but since it was really the only time he could work his way up to running without his mother noticing, he wanted to focus on that while he could. The other exercises could be done in his backyard before or after dinner. He just had to be careful not to let his mother see him overdoing it. He had exercises he was supposed to be doing after all – she knew about those. So he alternated back and forth – only working on the upper level stuff when he was certain she was busy elsewhere in the house and wasn't watching.

She did catch him a few times though.

"Ed? What are you doing?" his mother asked the first time she stepped out onto the back porch to find him paused mid-way through a sit-up. Her tone was more curious than anything else but the look in her eyes made it clear she expected a proper answer.

Ed gulped and finished pulling his torso up, looping his arms around his knees to hold that position. "Sit-ups." He replied after taking a moment to catch his breath. "I… well, I've never really been able to do them before." It was true – doing a proper sit-up with two missing limbs had never really worked right. His prosthetics mostly just got in the way as he couldn't control them and do sit-ups at the same time. When he tried without them, his balance was always thrown off. He supposed it would have been easier if just one was missing or if they were both on the same side – but neither was the case and he'd had a lot of trouble counter balancing himself when he'd tried a few times in the past.

His automail made it so much easier. He had the balance he needed and the control to keep his arm out of the way as he moved. He shrugged and shot his mother a cocky grin. "I wanted to see if I could."

Riza smiled gently with that same look of pride in her eyes that Ed had grown used to seeing every time he accomplished something new with his automail – not that this was really an automail activity; rather, it was simply something that having automail allowed him to do. "Alright, but don't do too much. You don't want to strain your body again after being sick."

Ed nodded. "I know." He bit his lip for a moment and considered a way for his exercises to take on a more legitimate purpose, at least from his mother's point of view. "I'll take it easy for now. But, you know, I was thinking that while I'm working on my automail therapy, I should probably also work on getting the rest of my body in shape so that once I finish rehabilitation I can go out for sports."

His mother's eyes lit up at the suggestion and Ed was glad he'd made it. "Is that something you'd like?" she asked.

"I've thought about it."He answered with a shrug.

After that Riza didn't comment when she saw him working on core body exercises. The second time she questioned him was when she caught him trying some exercises designed for a higher level of automail therapy.

"I know you're anxious to do more, Ed. But you promised that you'd take it slow and follow the guidelines Winry set for you. You don't want to push too fast, too soon."

Ed had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying something that would reveal what he knew. He didn't want to go slow. He _needed_ to go faster and he knew what he was doing. Instead he put on a slightly bashful front and smiled hopefully up at his mother. "I know, Mom. It's just feeling really great right now and it gets easier every day. I think I might be ready to move to the next step."

Riza sighed and ruffled his hair – a gestured which almost caused Ed to roll his eyes. "Well, we can give Winry a call and see what she says." She turned to go back inside. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Finish up out here and then come set the table."

"Yes ma'am." Ed waited for his mother to close the door and then went back to what he was doing. One more day at this level and he'd move to the next. Winry wasn't here. She couldn't judge what Ed could or couldn't do over the phone. He would continue to follow his own plan. He'd just have to be more careful about it.

* * *

Ed found a surprising opportunity to continue his physical training at school. He'd never really participated in the fitness classes that had been offered at his primary school – not that those classes really consisted of much actual fitness training. It was mostly just games and simple sports designed to keep the young children active and to wear them down a bit so that they could endure the classroom for a few more hours. The fitness teachers had always done their best to try and include Ed in the games despite his limitations.

Central Academy was different. The Physical Education class was a required attendance course for all students whether they could actively participate or not. Couch Tanner was a strict man with a set routine. He didn't make accommodations or changes to his program for anyone. As such, he'd never really tried to give Ed anything to do before. If Ed couldn't participate in an activity as it was, he sat out. Ed had stopped trying after his first few days at Central Academy. His gym clothes remained in his locker while he sat and watched the other boys run laps, jump hurdles, and practice different sports techniques. He usually used to time to get in some extra reading which didn't help with his bookworm image. Coach Tanner didn't seem to regard Ed as anyone worth his notice. If he couldn't participate then he wasn't his responsibility.

But Ed's first day back at school, after deciding upon his new plan of action, changed all that.

"You're gonna participate?" Kale asked incredulously as Ed changed beside him in the boy's locker room. "Are you sure your automail is ready?"

Ed shrugged and pulled his gym shirt on with relative ease. Changing had never been easy before the automail – yet another reason he mostly hadn't bothered with Phys Ed before. "If it's not now, it will be soon. I've just got to build up my strength."

He glanced sideways at his friend, gauging the other boy's reaction. He still wasn't sure how he should behave at school, particularly around the two people who had been his best friends for as long as he could remember. Ed's morning classes had gone by alright – it had been easy enough to tune the teachers out and to continue jotting notes in his journal from his slowly but surely returning memory. More details were gathering in his brain – nothing big, just parts of the whole. Eventually, there would be enough to piece together the entire picture.

He was called on twice to answer questions. Both times, he was forced to ask for the question again, but he readily supplied the answer and no one was the wiser for his inattention – no one, that is, except for Kale and Bri.

His two best friends knew something was up and he knew that they knew. But he couldn't exactly come out and tell them what he'd discovered. As tempting as it was to share the information and thus, perhaps, the burden, he couldn't say anything. They'd never believe him for one thing, and even if they did – what could they do about it? It's not like they could help him regain his memories. No. This was something he had to do for himself.

But while he was absorbed in his own difficulties, Bri and Kale were bound to notice how withdrawn he'd become. Bri had questioned him about it twice already and Kale had been giving him funny looks all day. Ed didn't want to spurn his friends, but their constant concern was getting to be a bother. He didn't need to worry about keeping up appearances on top of everything else he was going through. And they were far too observant.

Thankfully, Kale just grinned at Ed's explanation. "That's great! You'll be doing sports before you know it. I was thinking about trying out for the track and field team next year. I'm pretty good at shot-put. Maybe you'll be able to join up too and then we can be on the team together."

Ed shrugged. "Yeah, maybe." For a brief moment he relished the prospect of finally being able to do sports and be part of a team instead of just sitting on the sidelines. But he shook those thoughts away. He didn't have time for sports. He didn't have time for school. Right now it was just something he had to do while he worked on regaining his strength and his memories. If everything went as planned, he wouldn't even be in school this time next year. He'd be out looking for his brother. That was the only thing that mattered now – getting his memories back and finding Al. Everything else could wait.

The two boys walked out of the locker room together and joined the rest of their class in the gym to wait for the coach. As usual, Coach Tanner walked into the gym at exactly 12:45 pm. Everyone was expected to be dressed and ready for his arrival and cursory inspection that their uniforms were in order. The tall man looked down the line of boys, eying each one momentarily before moving on. His gaze came to rest on Ed for a moment, continued to Kale, beside him, and then jumped back.

"What are you doing, Mr. Mustang? Shouldn't you be on the bench?"

Ed blinked. He'd been ready for the question but not for the form of address. Couch Tanner was one of those teachers who always used last names, usually preceded by a Mr. or Miss, depending on the gender of the student in question. Ed had never had a problem being called Mustang before but now he had to bite his tongue against the sudden urge to correct his coach. _It's Elric… but it's also Mustang… this is confusing. _

He pushed the thoughts aside and continued with his preplanned answer. "No, sir. I have automail now and I'm ready to join my peers in whatever activities and exercises you have planned."

Tanner frowned deeply. "Don't you have a couple years of rehabilitation to go through or something?" His question was hesitant and it was clear to Ed that the man knew next to nothing about automail. He could use that to his advantage.

"Yes, sir. This is part of my rehabilitation and therapy. I have to build up my strength and muscle mass and acclimate my body to a wide variety of motion and movement. I'm not saying I'll be particularly good at any of the activities to start out but I have to begin somewhere and until I try I can never learn. So I'd like to begin today, sir."

The coach didn't respond at first. He looked Ed up and down with a stern expression and Ed did his best to reveal his own serious determination. After a moment, Tanner smiled… sort of – it was more of a crooked smirk really but Ed would take what he could get.

"I like your spirit, boy. Alright, you can join us. Just know that I won't be slowing down or simplifying things for you. You'll have to keep up as best you can."

"I wouldn't expect otherwise, sir."

And so it went. The first four days of the week were exercise and strength building days, which fit in well with Ed's own training program. Ed did his best at every task he was given – he was often slower than the other boys while he worked on perfecting an unfamiliar movement, but once he got it down he was able to pick up the pace and by Thursday he was keeping pace with the rest of the class. When they were assigned laps around the gym, Ed took up a light jog. It took him longer but he always did the same amount as the other boys. Tanner seemed impressed – he didn't actually say anything but Ed caught the coach glancing at him several times over the course of the week.

Kale wasn't nearly so quiet. "Man, Ed! You're doing great out there. I had no idea you were so athletic." The boy exclaimed in the locker room on Friday while they changed into their gym clothes. Friday was always sports day and this week they were supposed to be running basketball drills.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Well when you're stuck on a bench for twelve years…" He shrugged and left the sentence hanging.

"Yeah…"Kale smiled sympathetically. "I know you never complained about it, but that must've been really tough – especially seeing as how you can do so much now."

"I didn't have a reason to complain."Ed replied. "I didn't really know what I was missing." _Or who I was missing or what memories I was missing or even who I really was! _

Ed sighed as he walked into the gym. His plan to help his mind by training his body seemed to be working. He was remembering a little more every day and his visions and dreams were more coherent and focused. It was somewhat exciting, like uncovering a long buried artifact in an archeological dig. But it was also depressing because the artifact he was uncovering was himself. It was difficult to realize just how many important moments he had forgotten – conversations with his brother, which had probably seemed trivial at the time, were precious to him now. Bits and pieces of his own personality had been buried for so long that it felt like an affront against himself to remember them now. It was almost with indignation that he thought _how dare I forget who I am?!_

It was these thoughts that carried Ed through the motions of the beginning of their Friday Physical Education class. They began with the usual warm up stretches and then two quick laps around the gym. Ed took these slow and allowed his thoughts to wander some more. By the time he finished, the other boys had already been grouped in three or four person 'teams' to practice making shots on one of the four hoops on the gym. Kale waved to him and Ed walked over to round out their team of four.

Ed wasn't really paying attention when it came his time to shoot. He took the ball and dribbled twice with his left hand. That was something he had learned how to do before – his hand-eye coordination was actually really good considering he'd spent most of his life juggling awkward objects one handed. But dribbling and shooting were two different things and Ed had to shake himself out of his thoughts to concentrate on the task at hand.

Eyeing the net above him, Ed quickly calculated the path the ball would have to take to make a basket. He figured he could probably do it easily leading with his left hand. Leading with his automail would be harder. Ed smirked and figured it was worth the extra challenge. If he didn't make it, he'd just have to try again.

Switching hands, he dribbled twice with his right hand, almost fumbled but caught himself and dribbled a few more times until he was confident in maneuvering the ball with his automail. Then, stopping the ball between both hands, he lined himself up to shoot, took aim…

… and missed.

The ball flew under the net and smacked into the wall behind the hoop. Ed rolled his eyes as he figured out his mistake – he'd held back on the force with his automail. That was the problem with the early stages of automail therapy – it was always about holding back and trying not to exact too much force. Precision was key.

As he moved to retrieve the ball, Ed began calculating the adjustments he needed to make in his force exertion, but his thoughts were interrupted by the taunting voice of Les Hakuro.

"A little short there, aren't you, Mustang?"

Ed froze and then slowly turned to face his nemesis. "What did you call me?" He asked in a low voice, taking on a dangerous tone.

Les, for his part, looked baffled for a moment. "I didn't call you anything. I said your shot was short, you git." Ed glared and Les frowned but then the taller boy's eyes lit up in realization. "You don't like being called _short_, do you Mustang?" he asked slowly as a feral grin began to split his face. "Come to think of it… I hadn't really noticed before but I bet you're the shortest guy in our class and since we're first years, that would make you the shortest guy in the whole school. I bet even a lot of the girls are taller than you. It's no wonder you couldn't make that shot. The net's too high – well, I guess it's not really too high. The rest of us have no trouble with it. So I suppose you're just too _short._"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE'D BE BETTER OFF USING A PINGPONG BALL AND TEACUP?!"

"Whoa! Ed calm down." Kale approached and tentatively put a hand on Ed's shoulder, looking rather shocked at his friend's sudden outburst. "He didn't… say that… I mean he did say a bunch of other stuff that was really pretty stupid but he didn't say… whatever you said."

Ed took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. He wasn't sure where his outburst had come from – or rather he did know because his mind was suddenly full of a hundred similar outbursts made many years past. But he couldn't believe he'd actually let Les get to him like that. Les had been tormenting him for years but he'd always managed to brush it off before. Only now he'd given Les exactly what the bully was looking for – a reaction. It would only get worse from here on out.

"Come on, Ed. Let's get back to practicing." Kale turned to go pick up the forgotten basketball.

"What's the point of practicing?" Les shot back, that victorious grin still plastered on his face. "It won't do any good. He's just not tall enough. Face it, Mustang. You'll always be _short!_"

Ed saw red. He didn't think – he just acted. And fifteen minutes later he found himself sitting in the Headmaster's office with a split lip. Next to him, Lester Hakuro was nursing an ice pack over a black eye.

* * *

Roy Mustang was not enjoying his mission. The small, temporary base near Xoporor was understaffed and disorganized. Not only that but the food was horrible and the beds were hard and lumpy. Normally, his rank should have afforded him with better accommodations but that didn't seem to be the case this time. The whole operation was a mess and Roy felt he had spent more time trying to get the soldiers functioning as a proper unit than actually dealing with the skirmishes on the border. It made him really appreciate the hard work and skills of his team back in Central. More than once he'd found himself sharing exasperated glances with Havoc who seemed just as frustrated as Roy felt.

"When we get home, remind me to give everyone in the office a raise." He grumbled to the lieutenant.

Havoc raised one eyebrow. "Sure thing, Boss. But why?"

"For not being incompetent idiots." Roy rolled his eyes but smirked as Havoc laughed. Then, he retreated into the small office that had been assigned to him. "I'm going to make a phone call." He shut the door, trusting that the Lieutenant would hold off anyone who might bother him.

It was his one relief from the insanity of his job at the moment. He couldn't call often, but he tried to check in with Riza at least once a day. Her voice comforted him and gave him strength as it always had in the years she'd spent watching his back. He wished she could be with him now, but knew that she was needed at home, with their son.

Thinking about Ed caused Roy to sigh. He hadn't spoken to the boy once since he left home. Ed had been sick for almost two weeks straight and hadn't wanted to come to the phone once during that time. Since then he'd either been out walking the dog or in his room studying whenever Roy called. Roy tried not to let it bother him but he couldn't help but feel that Ed was avoiding him on purpose – that he was still angry at him for leaving. Riza didn't think so but considering the way things had been left between them that morning… it still hurt Roy to remember his son's frantic cries as the car pulled away.

He would try again today, as he did every day. He would ask Riza to put Ed on the phone and maybe he would be able to hear his son's voice again – happy and excited the way it was supposed to be, instead of hurt and broken.

He didn't hold out much hope though. He'd come to expect that the boy would be busy or just plain wouldn't want to talk to him – whichever the case really was.

What he didn't expect was the first bit of news Riza shared with him after their initial greeting.

"He did _what?!"_ Roy stared at the receiver, incredulously, unable to believe what he was hearing. "What kind of fight?" Surely it wasn't as bad as it sounded.

"A fist fight, Roy. The Physical Education Coach had to pull the boys apart. Apparently, Edward started it." Riza's voice explained calmly over the phone.

Roy opened and shut his mouth several times, not sure how to respond to this situation. "That doesn't make any sense. He had to have been provoked, Ed wouldn't just… it's not like him."

"According to Kale, who witnessed the fight, Lester was openly mocking Ed. But that still doesn't excuse his actions."

"No, it doesn't." Roy frowned and tried to imagine a scenario in which Ed would actually hit someone. Fullmetal, sure – he could see that easily. But he wasn't Fullmetal anymore. This was Ed – sweet and charming Ed. This was his boy and he was torn between feeling angry with his son for his actions and wanting to defend him and insist that it was the other boy's fault. "Ed's been teased before. He's never done anything like this. Why the difference? What did he say?"

Riza didn't respond right away. She cleared her throat before answering. "Apparently… he said Edward was short."

The General froze. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No, although, that's only what the witnesses report. Ed hasn't said much of anything."

Roy sighed. "Alright, put him on the phone." It wasn't an option this time. Roy did not like the situation one bit. When he'd hoped to speak to his son tonight, this was not how he planned on doing it. He just couldn't believe this was happening – and over being called _short_ of all things! _Since when did he start worrying about being short again?_ And suddenly Roy found himself feeling guilty for all of the times he'd teased Fullmetal about his height in the past. Once upon a time, the boy's short rants had amused him. Now… he had to be a parent. Ed knew this wasn't acceptable and it was Roy's job as a father to make sure that lesson was remembered.

Faintly, he heard Riza speaking to Ed and then footsteps approaching where the phone had obviously been set down. Roy waited for the boy to speak first.

There was a deep breath and then he started. "Look, I know I messed up. I lost my temper and it was stupid. I've already apologized in person and written a letter of apology to Lester's parents. I'm serving demerits after school for the next week and Mom's grounded me for a month. Is there anything else I need to do?"

It was clearly a rehearsed speech. Ed likely knew this talk was coming on top of everything else and had been preparing for it all afternoon. Roy actually felt a bit proud of his son for his willingness to own up to his mistake and accept his punishment. Still, he needed to get to the bottom of this.

"Just talk to me. What happened, Ed?"

He could almost see the boy rolling his eyes through the phone. "Nothing happened. Les was saying some stupid stuff and I lost my cool. I hit him and he hit me and then we were both swinging punches till Coach Tanner came and broke us up. That's it. Like I said, it was stupid. It won't happen again."

Roy got the feeling Ed was very anxious to be off the phone. He imagined Riza was standing close by, watching, or else to boy might have hung up already. That was good because Roy wasn't done.

"This isn't like you, Ed."

"I know."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I've just got a fat lip and a couple of other bruises."

"That's good, but not what I meant." Roy sighed. "Is everything alright, Ed? I know you were sick for awhile but I haven't been able to talk to you since I left. Is there anything going on that I should know about?"

There was a pause on the other line. It wasn't very long but it was long enough that Roy started to wonder if maybe there _was_ something going on. "No." Ed finally replied. "Nothing's going on. Everything's fine. I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about."

Roy wasn't convinced but then he didn't have much to go on. He only had one theory and he was hesitant to ask but… "Is this because I'm not there?"

"What? No! It has nothing to do with that!" Ed answered vehemently. Roy wasn't sure whether to take that as a sign that he was telling the truth or not. "It's not – I'm not – I'm not acting out for attention or to try and get you to come home early or anything stupid like that. I already told you – I lost my temper! That's it. People do that. There aren't any ulterior motives. I didn't plan this. It just happened!"

"Alright! That's enough, Ed." Roy raised his voice enough to stop the boy's ranting and then lowered it. "I believe you. I'm just… concerned. You've never acted this way before and considering the way things were when I left –"

"I'm not mad at you for leaving." Ed's tone was almost exasperated. "Mom told you it was just a panic attack, didn't she?"

Roy rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the headache that was forming between his eyes. "She mentioned it. But I wanted to hear from you. I've called every day for three weeks now Ed. And this is the first time we've talked."

"I've been busy. And before that I was sick."

"Fair enough… but, Ed – you know that you can talk to me, right? About anything."

There was another pause – this one longer than the last and Roy started to wonder if there was something that Ed wanted to say. He waited, certain that Ed would come out and say what was bothering him and that they'd be able to talk about it and work it out and everything would be okay again. Instead…

"Yeah, sure… whatever."

Somehow, those three simple words stung. It wasn't a rejection really but it wasn't acceptance either and Roy suddenly felt like there was a barrier between him and his son that had nothing to do with the distance between them or the fact that they were speaking through a phone.

"Can I go now? I've got homework to do."

Roy sighed heavily and wondered what had changed. What had gone wrong between him and his little boy? "Yes, Ed. You can go. Put your mother back on, please. And, Ed?"

"…yeah?"

"I love you, Son."

"… right. Good night."

* * *

General Mustang didn't waste any more time in Xoporor. He'd had enough of dealing with incompetent subordinates and mediocre work. A couple snaps of his fingers had the military personal stationed at Xoporor falling in line. He was done playing nice with the insurgents who were leading the border disputes. A few well placed inferno blasts had them deciding they didn't _really_ want to mess with the Flame Alchemist.

He was done. He knew there'd be a ton of paperwork waiting for him back at Central to account for seven chairs, three water barrels, one truck, and one emotionally traumatized military secretary but he couldn't bring himself to care. His actions had been effective and the border disputes were settled. They could argue about his methods later. All he wanted now was to get home, fix whatever was wrong between him and his son, and spend the rest of the night holding his wife on a real bed that wasn't hard or lumpy.

And so it was less than a week later that Roy finally walked through his front door and paused to take in the smell of dinner which had probably already been eaten. He hadn't called ahead to let Riza know he'd be home that day and the train had been delayed so it was late, but surely there'd be some leftovers in the icebox.

"I'm home." He called as he hung up his coat and slipped out of his boots.

"Roy?" Riza came around the corner from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. She'd probably been doing dishes. "You didn't say you'd be home today."

Roy smiled and embraced his wife. "I thought I'd surprise you. Where's Ed?" he looked around, not seeing the boy anywhere, and then back to his wife and was surprised to find her frowning.

"He's out back, exercising."

"Exercising?" Roy raised an eyebrow, confused. "Is that a bad thing?" Certainly it was odd. Ed wasn't normally one to work out beyond his therapy and rehabilitation program but then, he'd never really been able to do much before. But Riza seemed upset by this recent development and that made Roy worry.

"I don't know." Riza shook her head. "He's been doing this for a few weeks now – exercising right after school and then again after dinner. He's also been participating in Physical Education at school – I'm suddenly having to wash his gym uniform every other day. And I'm fairly certain that he's been running at the park when he takes Lilyate for her walks – or at least he was before I grounded him."

"Running? He's not ready for that. He hurt himself the last time, didn't he?"

"Yes, though I don't think he's pushed it that far. He is pushing himself though. He doesn't think I've noticed but he's been sore lately, especially around his ports. He's constantly rubbing them though I'm not sure he's conscious of it. He's been so distracted lately, always lost in his thoughts. But he won't talk to me. He pretends nothing is wrong. I'm worried about him." Riza pulled away from his embrace and returned to the kitchen where she took out the leftover meatloaf and started making a plate for her husband.

Roy followed, taking note of his wife's expressions as she worked. "There's more, isn't there – besides the exercising and the fight?"

Riza nodded. "I haven't asked him about it yet, but the Headmaster called me today at the office with concerns about Ed's recent behavior and his grades."

"His grades?!" Ed had always had perfect grades. He was an avid reader and a hard worker. "What's wrong with his grades?"

"His test scores are still perfect but it seems he hasn't been participating in class and he isn't doing any of his assignments."Riza explained.

"The extra ones?" Roy asked, knowing that his son often took on extra assignments just for the challenge.

His wife shook her head. "No, the basic ones – though he hasn't taken any extra work either. Every time his teachers offer, he turns them down which wouldn't be so bad if he was at least doing the core work but he hasn't turned anything in since he got back to school after being sick." She finished plating the food and set it on the table.

Roy sat down and began eating. He wanted to call Ed in right away and have the boy explain this, but he needed all of the information first. Ed didn't know he was home yet, so this was a good time to hear everything from Riza before confronting his son. "I thought he was always doing his homework when I called."

"That's what I thought too. He's almost always at his desk working on something if he's not out exercising. But I can't imagine what it is if not homework. I was planning to ask him about it tonight, but since you're here, if you'd rather…"

Roy nodded. "Yes, I need to talk to him anyway.

"Of course."

Roy finished eating and stood to wash his plate. "Was there anything else?"

Riza sighed. "Not really. He's just been acting so strange lately – quiet, pensive, distant… angry at times, though he tries not to show it. He doesn't smile very much and he's been pulling away from me. Sometimes I think it's just part of him growing up – boys do that, right? They get to that point where they don't need their mothers anymore? But… I don't know. It's more than that." She frowned. "He hasn't been drinking his milk."

Roy almost smirked at that. "Somehow I think milk is the least of our worries right now."

Riza laughed a little but then grew serious again. "Roy… I hate to say it but… even to me now, he seems to be acting more and more like… Fullmetal."

Roy took a deep breath and then almost whispered his next question. "Do you think he's remembering?"

"I… I don't know." Riza shook her head. "Sometimes, he acts just like him but… he hasn't said anything to indicate that he has remembered and I don't want to assume he has and then be wrong. If we say something and he doesn't know… it'll just lead to more questions and I don't think we can really give him all the answers."

"No, you're right. We can't just assume. If he has remembered… he'll say something eventually. If he hasn't… well I guess that answers the nature vs. nurture question. This is just who he is and we are in for a lot of work during his teen years."

Riza smiled halfheartedly. "I think I'd rather that. Everything he went through… I don't want him to remember that. I just him to be happy."

Roy put a hand on her shoulder. "We both do. But we always knew this might happen. Now we just have to wait and see how it all works out. In the mean time… I think it's time for me to have a chat with my son."

* * *

Ed stood in the backyard, paused mid-form, and took a moment to correct his footing. In the past week he had progressed from basic exercises to actual sparring forms. It was incredible how quickly the motions returned to his memory as he worked form after form, perfecting each one before moving on to the next. He would work them slowly at first, paying careful attention to timing, placement, and force. Once he had the pattern memorized, he would run it several times through, progressively faster each time.

He often found himself wishing that he had a sparring partner to test himself against. He remembered sparing with his brother – both as children, training with their teacher, and later, after he got his automail and Al was in the armor. He also remembered sparring with some of the other soldiers at headquarters, men on Mustang's team mostly, and countless battles against criminals. There were other battles too – against monsters.

_Homunculi_

The word had only come to him the night before. He knew what they were – too many childhood ghost stories told of these frightening creatures, although they seldom had the facts correct. What frightened Ed now was the realization that there _were_ actual facts to compare the stories to – that the monsters in his fairy tale book were real and that he'd met and fought with them.

As with everything else he'd remembered, Ed wrote the details of these creatures in his journal: their names, physical descriptions, abilities… and a strange tattoo. Ed had drawn the image out just to be sure he had it right in his head.

_Ouroboros _

It was the sign of a Homunculus – something easily identifiable if Ed ever came across it again. But that made him wonder if he ever would meet another Homunculus. What had become of them? Were they still around, hurting people, causing chaos and destruction? It was these thoughts that drove him to continue his training, even though it was already late in the evening, past the time he would normally have gone inside. His mother hadn't called him in yet though so he wasn't too worried about it.

He completed the form he was working on and moved back into one he had finished earlier. It was a good method for testing himself to make sure that patterns weren't forgotten. Since he knew this one rather well already, he skipped over the slow practice motions and immediately began at the speed he'd determined to be most beneficial to his body while not putting too much exertion on his automail.

"That doesn't look like the exercise Winry approved for you." A familiar voice cut through his thoughts and caused him to stumble – just a little – before coming up short and turning to face his father, who was standing by the back door.

Ed blinked and slowly righted himself, standing up straight. "When did you get back?" he asked abruptly.

"A little bit ago. I just finished eating." Roy replied, stepping off the porch and with a relaxed expression. Ed watched his eyes though and knew that his father was scrutinizing him. He was looking for something, which meant that he'd probably been warned something was up. Ed knew that his mother was worried about him. She'd asked several times about his recent behavior and, while Ed had tried to pretend everything was normal, he knew he couldn't really fool the Hawk's Eye. She was on to him and had told Ed's father to watch for something.

Ed could only hope that he could act normally enough in front of his former superior to not alert him to the truth. "Oh, um… welcome back." Ed shrugged and forced a small smile.

"What, no hug?" Roy asked, opening his arms and smiling easily.

Ed found himself feeling jealous of his father's perfect poker face. He hesitated, knowing that a hug would be the normal, expected thing for him to do upon his father's return from a mission – a hug, a smile, and a thousand excited questions. A part of him wanted to do just that but another part was conflicted. _This is Colonel Mustang. He doesn't do hugs and _I_ don't do hugs either – not with him. _But his father was waiting for something. Ed chewed on his lip for a moment then settled for what he figured might be an acceptable teenage response.

He shrugged. "I'm twelve. I'm not a kid anymore."

Roy's poker face faltered for the slightest instant and Ed felt a twinge of guilt for his words at the hurt that flashed through his father's eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to change his mind and hug the man – not when he still didn't know how he felt about his superior turned father.

Roy lowered his arms and changed the subject back to his earlier inquiry. "So what are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Exercising." Ed tried to make his voice sound casual.

His father raised one eyebrow. "It looked more like ghost sparring to me. Who taught you those moves?"

For a moment, Ed considered making something up. He could have said that they were learning how to spar in Physical Education but he'd never really been good at lying and Mustang had always been good at seeing through lies. Besides, the truth wasn't so farfetched, nor did it give anything away. "Nobody taught me. I taught myself."

"Really?" Roy sounded skeptical.

"Of course I did!" Ed replied, taking offense at his father's tone. "Just like I've taught myself everything else I've ever learned. I don't _need _a teacher. I've got books and my own brains. That's all I've ever – " he cut himself off, wondering if he'd said too much. His temper had been so hard to control lately and he couldn't afford to let anything slip that would give away what he knew, what he remembered.

Thankfully, his father didn't seem to find anything odd about his little rant. "You're right." He replied steadily. "You're a smart kid, Ed. I believe that you could learn anything if you put your mind to it. What I don't understand is _why _you're learning it. Why now? You're automail – "

"My automail is fine. I promise. I'm not pushing too hard on the ports. I know what I'm doing." That was just what he needed – his parents trying to stop him from exercising because they were worried about his automail. He wasn't about to let that slow him down.

"Alright." Roy accepted. "But I still want to know what's going on. You've never shown any interest in working out before. Why are you doing this, Son?"

Ed bristled at the familial term. It hurt, in almost a bittersweet way, to hear Mustang call him that – because it wasn't true, but it was at the same time. It was confusing – both comforting and painful – and anger was once again easier to deal with. He didn't fight the near scowl that came to his face. "Nothing's going on. I just feel like getting in shape. Is there something wrong with that?"

Apparently his tone and expression had been the wrong things to take up at this moment because his father countered with a firm look. "No, Ed. There is nothing wrong with keeping fit. But what I saw you doing just now was not _just_ exercise. Those sparring forms are used for fighting. Are you planning on getting into another fight?"

"What?! No!" Ed started to argue but Roy cut him off and continued.

"What I want to know is why you're suddenly so focused on exercising. Meanwhile, you're grades are slipping, your mother is getting calls from the school, and you're getting into fights with other children. I want an explanation, Edward."

Ed stared at his father, not sure how to address the list of offenses, not to mention the insinuation that he was still a child. "I… I don't… school is stupid." He settled on an excuse that would work as well as any for now. "I'm smarter than everyone in my year and most in the other years. Hell, I'm smarter than half the teachers."

"So you're feeling held back." Roy said. It wasn't a question and he didn't seem surprised. "Is that why you're not doing the work?"

"Yeah, it's pointless."

"We can always talk to the school about moving you up a grade if you need more challenge. You know that's always been an option."

Ed briefly thought about leaving it there, about letting his father think that was the problem – something that could easily be fixed with a few calls to the school and some special arrangements. But Ed wasn't satisfied with moving up a grade. He needed to be done with school so that he could focus on his training and on finding his brother. Maybe this was his chance to make that happen. He took the chance and plowed forward.

"I don't want to be in a different grade." He said firmly. "I don't want to go to school at all anymore."

"Edward!" His mother's stunned voice sounded from the doorway but Ed didn't turn to look at her. He stared at his father, making it clear how serious he was.

Roy frowned deeply. "That's not an option, Edward."

Ed scowled. "Why not? I don't need school! I can teach myself anything that I need to learn. School is just holding me back from what I really should be doing."

"And just what is it that you think you should be doing at twelve years old?"

"Alchemy!" It was such an easy answer; Ed didn't have to think twice about it and this, at least, he could say without worrying about revealing what he remembered – it had always been true and his parents already knew it. "Alchemy is the only thing I've ever really wanted to do. You know that! I'm going to become a State Alchemist. I don't need school for that. Central Academy doesn't even teach alchemy. I need to focus on my talents and on my training. State Alchemist can't be weak! They need to know how to fight. They need to be strong."

"And that's why you're doing this… this training? To become a State Alchemist?" Roy shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous! You're too young to take the test. You have six years before that's even a possibility – that's more than enough time to train and build your strength at a slower, safer rate than what you're doing right now. What you need to do now is focus on your automail rehabilitation and your grades. You are _not_ dropping out of school, Edward Mustang! Do you understand me?"

"No, I don't understand because you're not listening to me! I don't need to stay in school and I don't need to wait six years either. I'll take the test next year!" Ed glared at his father. He'd said too much; he knew that. But there was no taking it back now and he was bound and determined to prove that he meant what he said.

His father's face was stern and he spoke slowly, in a low voice. "That's not possible, Edward."

"Why not?" Ed challenged.

"You're twelve years old."

"I don't see how age makes a difference. I know more about alchemy than most Alchemist twice my age. I've been studying my whole life and I know I can pass that test. Soon I'll be strong enough to pass the practical too. You'll see!"

"You're not allowed to take the test, Edward. You're too young."

"That didn't stop the Fullmetal Alcehmist!"Edward bit his tongue, but he couldn't unsay what had already been spoken. He was teetering on dangerous ground now. He needed to slow down and think his words through or else find a way to end this quickly. It had already gone too far.

Roy stared, his eyes open wide in shock, his mask broken for only a moment before it settled back into a serious expression. "Who told you about the Fullmetal Alchemist?" he asked slowly.

"What does it matter?"Ed countered. "I know who he was and I know that he became a State Alchemist when he was no older than I am now. He was great too! His age didn't matter and it won't matter for me either. I'll be as good as he was, better even!" He added the last to make a distinction between them. He could already see the gears turning behind Mustang's eyes. The man knew the truth – who he was, where he came from – and right now he was trying to figure out just how much Ed knew. But Ed wasn't giving anything else away. He would play this like Fullmetal was just another figure in history – someone he'd read about or heard about in class. That part was true at least. He could do this. He had enough anger fueling his thoughts right now, driving him to not doubt himself or hesitate.

His father sighed in frustration. "If you've heard about him then you should know that he's not exactly around anymore. He _was_ too young, Ed. He should never have been out there."

"You would know." Ed muttered the words, but his father heard him anyway.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ed looked up, startled, but then glared and pushed forward in determination. "You were his commanding officer, weren't you? You're the one who sent him out in the first place!"

Roy looked startled at the amount of information his son had about Fullmetal, and Ed thought he saw a flicker of guilt pass through his father's eyes before they grew stern once more. "Which is exactly why I am not about to let you take that test, Edward. I know firsthand the dangers of sending a child out to do a man's job. Children don't belong in the military. There is an age restriction law for a reason."

"It's a stupid law! And it won't matter. When they see what I can do, they won't care that I'm too young!"

"I won't let you!"

"You can't stop me!"

"Hah!"Roy scoffed. "You forget who's in charge of the State Alchemist program."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Oh, I get it. This is some kind of power play for you, right _General_? What? Are you afraid I'll be better than you?" He was pulling out all of the stops now. He was too angry and sick of seeing that smug look on Mustang's face. It flashed through his head – a hundred moments, a hundred arguments just like this one and yet so different now than in his memories because it wasn't just Mustang now – it was Dad.

"Don't be ridiculous." Mustang scowled.

"Why won't you let me take the test?!"

"Because I'm your father!"

"You're not my real father!"

Silence.

No one moved for several moments as Ed's last words lingered in the air.

Then the silence was broken by a startled gasp, which Ed belatedly realized came from himself, as the anger left him and he realized what he'd just said. He stared at his father – the man who had taken him in, raised him, loved him for twelve years. Those eyes, so often filled with pride, stared at him now, full of pain.

Ed's mouth gaped in horror as he slowly lifted his left hand, reaching towards his father. "Wait… I –"

"Nevermind. Do what you want." The mask was back and this time there was no breaking through it as Roy turned and marched past his wife and back inside the house.

Ed took a step forward, still reaching out, and then another. "Wait… D-Dad…"

"Don't." Ed turned to look at his mother, whose face was as blank as his father's had been. "Leave him alone, Edward."

Ed felt the beginnings of tears prickling behind his eyes. "Mom…"

She turned away from him and reached for the door to follow her husband. "It's late. Go to bed."

Ed stood, frozen, as his mother disappeared inside the house. He didn't move for several moments as his mind ran through all the words that had been spoken in the past ten minutes. _What did I do? _He'd never fought with his father before – not like that anyway. Now… now it was over. He thought maybe he'd won the argument but he didn't feel good about it. He felt horrible. _What have I done?_

He wasn't fully conscious of his feet moving, mindlessly obeying his mother's order, carrying him into the house and down the hallway to his room. He didn't see anyone else. His father's office door was closed tight as was his parent's bedroom. Lilyate trotted behind him and tried to follow him into his room, but he closed the door, shutting her out.

He walked over to his desk and looked down at the journal he'd been keeping for the last four weeks. It was over halfway filled now, the pages covered with notes and drawings – thousands of details from hundreds of memories just waiting to be put together in some kind of sensible order. It had been so exciting, discovering each piece and trying to fit it into the puzzle, unraveling some other part of who he was.

Now though… now he hated it.

He opened the book to the last page he'd written on. It held a quick sketch of an ouroboros and a handful of other notes about the homunculi. They were important – dangerous and therefore important. Yet somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He fingered the page for barely a moment before he ripped it out of the book and flung it across the room. He didn't wait to watch it flutter to the ground. He grabbed another page and tore – then another and another. Soon the book was just a battered cover and the pages were scattered about his floor.

Ed sat down wearily in his chair and leaned his head against his hands.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why is this happening to me? Why can't I just be normal?" He sobbed a shaking breath. "Why do I have these memories? Why can't I just be one person? I don't want it! I don't want it anymore. I just want to be me and be with my family – my parents…" He sniffled and wiped at his stinging eyes. "But Al… I promised him. I promised I'd get his body back and now I have to find him too. But I can't… I don't want to lose Mom and Dad. I can't tell them. If they knew… they wouldn't want me anymore cause I'm not their son anymore – I'm Fullmetal. I can't tell them… but I may have lost them anyway. I'm so stupid. I didn't mean it, Dad… I'm sorry… I'm sorry."


	10. in which family is something we choose

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** So, it apparently takes a long time for Roy to tell a story – especially when Ed keeps interrupting. But anyway, HERE is the chapter you've all been waiting for. I hope it meets everyone's expectations. And it's nice and long – hard to believe I've been writing this for almost twelve hours straight, but I didn't want to stop for too long and forget something.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 10, in which family is something we choose **

"You know he didn't mean it."

"Of course he didn't mean it… But that doesn't mean it's not true. I don't know the first thing about being a father, Riza. Tonight just proves it."

She didn't respond at first. She busied herself with capping the bottle of brandy and returning it to its place in the upper cabinet. It was just as well. Roy hadn't actually drunk any of what he'd poured into his glass. He just stared at it though the caramel-colored liquor could somehow provide the answers he was searching for.

"You're wrong, you know."She began, as she crossed the room and paused with one hand on the doorknob. "You love him and that's the only thing any father needs to know." She closed the door behind her, leaving her husband to his restless thoughts.

Roy wasn't sure how long he stayed in his office, pondering the untouched glass of brandy. He wasn't sure what hurt the most – having his past mistakes thrown back in his face by the very person who was the unknowing victim of them all, or hearing his beloved son use the truth of their relationship against him.

He had never hidden from Ed, that he was adopted. From the moment the child was old enough to comprehend what that meant, he'd known. But Roy had always striven to make it clear that they were a family, regardless of blood – they chose each other and that was what was important. He'd chosen to keep Ed. That made the boy his son. But now… Roy wondered if Ed would have chosen him to be his father, had he been able. Or rather, would Fullmetal have chosen him? The answer to that was too plain – no. Fullmetal would never have accepted Mustang as his father. He'd probably have ranted for hours about it and cursed his superior for even suggesting it. He wouldn't have gone for this.

And for the first time in twelve years, Roy found himself doubting his decision. _Did I make the right choice? _Ed hadn't really been given a choice. This family was all he had ever known.

_What if he doesn't want it anymore?_

The thought made something twist inside Roy's chest. It was painful. After twelve years of caring, raising, and loving the boy, he couldn't imagine not having Ed in his life. He couldn't begin to imagine the pain a parent might feel at losing a child to death – but he thought that losing Ed to anything might be something like that.

It was these thoughts that drove him from the office, leaving his still full glass sitting on the desk, and led him to stand in front of his son's door. He stopped with his hand on the knob, realizing where he was. Somewhere, on the other side of that door, was Ed. Roy didn't know what time it was or if the boy would still be awake. He hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to start another confrontation, another fight. But he wanted, _needed_, to see his son.

Tomorrow… tomorrow would likely be more of the same if Ed's attitude hadn't changed. Roy thought maybe if he changed his own approach, they might be able to keep things from devolving from discussion to argument – but he wasn't sure he'd be able to reign in his own temper, let alone Ed's.

He didn't want to deal with that tonight. He just wanted to see his son – to ease the pain in his chest with the irrefutable knowledge that his boy was there. He might hate his father right now, but he was there, home and safe and, hopefully, asleep.

After listening at the door for a few moments, and hearing nothing, Roy eased the door open slowly.

He frowned. The room was a mess. Papers were scattered about all over the floor as though a miniature tornado had breezed through the room. Roy chose to ignore this momentarily and looked, instead, at the figure of his son. The boy was slumped over in his chair, his head resting atop his arms which were crossed on the desk. He was definitely asleep, breathing deeply – almost snoring. But Roy couldn't imagine that the position was comfortable. He winced just imagining the kinks the boy would wake up with if he slept through the night like that.

Crossing the room, Roy reached out to gently brush away a lock of hair that fallen in front of Ed's face. The boy really needed a haircut. It was at that in-between point – long enough that it got in the way, but too short to actually do anything with it. Roy smiled wryly at the thought of seeing his son with that all-too-familiar braid Fullmetal had always worn but he cast those thoughts aside.

Right now, sleeping sprawled out across his desk, a line a drool creeping down his chin to soak his shirt sleeve, he wasn't Fullmetal. He was just Ed – sweet, innocent Ed who always strove to reach his full potential, who never let anything hold him back, who was strong enough to endure automail surgery, and stubborn enough to defy any odds. That was who Roy saw as he watched his sleeping son. He leaned against the desk and let the minutes slip away as he recalled the countless nights he had spent doing just this. From the from the very first night the boy had spent in his home and Roy had stared at him with wonder and amazement that this baby could be the same stubborn shrimp who, less than a week before, had stormed out of his office at Headquarters – frustrated but determined to finish the mission quickly and get back to work. That was the last time he saw Fullmetal.

So much had changed since then. So many sleepless nights had passed as Roy dealt with the trials of infancy – midnight feedings and diaper changes, colic, teething, desperate calls to his lieutenant for help because little Ed had swallowed a button. Those moments slipped away in a instant and the boy had grown into a toddler, first crawling awkwardly on one hand and one leg – Roy still couldn't figure out how his son had managed that but the kid was too stubborn to not move once he had the strength to try – and then learning how to walk once his first prosthetic was attached. He was speaking in full sentences before he turned two and taught himself to read before he was three. He started drawing perfect circles with crayons on scrap paper and made his first transmutation circle before his fourth birthday. And so the years passed.

Despite the fact that Ed had long since begun sleeping through the night, Roy still found himself drawn to his son's room, to watch him sleep and to marvel at the gift he'd somehow been given – and in such a form! He'd once balked at the very insinuation that he might think of Edward Elric as something like his son. Yet here he was – the boy he'd once done everything possible to deny any affection towards was _his _boy, his son. And he wouldn't give him up for anything in the world.

The distant chiming of the clock above the fireplace in the living room brought Roy out of his musings. He counted and then sighed. It was midnight. Riza was probably wondering if he was ever coming to bed.

Pushing away from the desk, Roy considered his son for another moment. He really couldn't bring himself to leave Ed at his desk all night. He'd be sore in the morning. But the boy was really too big to carry. Roy thought he'd be able to manage it if it weren't for the automail but, despite being made from lighter materials than steel, it was still heavy and when compounded with Ed's own body weight… well at the very least Roy didn't think he could manage it without waking the boy up. And if he was going to wake up anyway, it would just be easier to wake him now and let him walk himself to bed.

He hated to do it, but it was necessary. Reaching out, he shook the boy's shoulder and gently called his name.

* * *

Ed felt someone shaking him gently and heard a voice calling him out of his dreams. For once, he hadn't been dreaming about the past. He'd been in the dining room eating dinner with his parents. The room was filled with people – his uncles, Aunt Gracia, Elicia, Kale, Bri, their parents, and then a bunch of people he didn't know as well, but could at least recognize in passing. Major Armstrong had taken up a whole corner of the room and really it didn't make sense that so many people could fit into a room that was so small. They were packed like sardines and yet somehow still had room to move about as people approached him individually to speak to him or hand him another plate of food which he continued devouring and wondered why he didn't feel full yet. That's when he realized that he was dreaming. But he didn't wake up until he heard his name being called.

"Ed. C'mon son, wake up."

Groggily, Ed blinked his eyes opened and wondered why he was staring at the wood grains on his desk instead of the ceiling or the weave on his pillow case. He vaguely remembered sitting down at the desk sometime earlier, after tearing his journal apart. He didn't actually remember falling asleep, but then that was usually the case. Wearily, he pushed himself into a sitting position and winced as the blood flow returned to his left arm. He shook it out and then rubbed at his eyes before turning to see who'd woken him up.

"Dad?" It didn't register at first why he should be surprised to see his father standing in his room, but then Ed's eyes flew open wide as that evening's argument came rushing back. "Dad, I…. earlier… what I said… I – I didn't…" he stumbled over the words. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to apologize – to somehow take it all back and make things better between him and his father. But his mouth wasn't working right and his brain was stuck somewhere on the realization that words wouldn't really be enough.

Thankfully, his father seemed to understand because he just smiled softly and placed his hand on top of Ed's head, not ruffling his hair, but just resting there. "I know, son. It's okay."

What Ed felt next was a simultaneous joining of relief and inexplicable anger. He didn't know why he should feel angry, or even who he was angry with. Not his father. Maybe himself. He supposed it was really the entire situation that had his temper up. He felt horrible for what he'd said and yet here his father was trying to brush it aside like it was nothing. _It's not right! It's not equivalent!_ He scowled and pushed his father's hand away. "No! It's not okay! What I said… I didn't… you didn't deserve…"

"Ed." His father's commanding voice brought Ed out of his ramblings and he looked up into the dark eyes of the man who raised him. "It's late. We can talk more tomorrow. I just thought you'd be more comfortable sleeping in your bed than at your desk."

Ed swallowed whatever he'd been about to say next, not even sure what it was himself, and nodded. "I… yeah, that's probably a good idea." He offered a tentative smile. "Thanks, Dad."

His father just smirked and helped Ed up out of the chair, ushering him towards the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Ed bent to take off his shoes and his father moved back to give him space. Ed thought the man might turn to leave, so he looked up to say good night but stopped when he saw his father frowning at the papers on the floor.

"What did you do to your room, Ed? You usually keep it so neat in here."

Ed shrugged, and tried to think of a way to get his father out of the room quickly, so he wouldn't see what was written on those papers, but without saying something stupid that would hurt his father again. "I was… kinda throwing a temper tantrum earlier." He admitted sheepishly. "I'll clean it up in the – No! Dad, you don't have to – " He froze when he saw the paper his father had picked up. It was face-down, so the man could not yet see what drawn on the other side. But Ed could see it and he stared, wide-eyed as his father looked, first at him, then back at the paper with a marked frown.

It took only a moment for Roy to figure out why his son had stopped talking. Slowly, almost as though he was afraid, he turned the paper over and looked down at the image drawn on the other side.

Ed watched as his father's body went stiff and his frown turned into a glare. He braced himself for an explosion and vaguely wondered if the Flame Alchemist had his gloves in his pocket. But the words that came out of his father's mouth weren't harsh; they weren't even loud, just cold and deadly serious.

"What is this?"

Ed sprung up from the bed to stand in front of his father. Maybe… maybe he could salvage this somehow. Maybe it wasn't too late. "It's – it's nothing. Just some notes. Homework." Ed struggled to keep his voice calm, even, convincing. It didn't work. His father's gaze hardened.

"Don't lie to me, Edward Mustang. You haven't been doing your homework and _this_" He brandished the paper so that the ouroborus could be clearly seen. "is not something that would be taught at a school! Where did you see this symbol, Edward?"

Ed tried to reply, to throw out another excuse, anything! But his voice had stopped working and his tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. All he could do was stare into his father's fiery gaze and wonder if it really was fear that he saw floating behind those eyes.

But then the gaze was torn away and Roy was stooping to pick up more papers. The spell was broken and Ed jumped into action, bending down and reaching to stop his father's hands. "No! You can't read those! They're mine! They're private!" He grasped the small stack as his father stood and for a moment there was a gentle tug-of-war with the papers, before both stopped and stared at one another. They weren't going to fight over the papers that way. It would only result in the papers being torn and Ed knew his father would win if it came down to that. So it came down to a battle of wills.

Roy held the papers firmly, but he didn't look down to read what was written on them. He met his son's eyes evenly. "What is all of this, Edward?"

"It's nothing."

"What are these papers?"

"My… my journal. I told you, they're private!"

His father sighed and Ed thought for a moment that he had won. His parents had always respected his privacy and journals were very private things. They wouldn't invade his space that way.

"I don't want to read them, Edward." His father said and Ed felt a rush of relief flow through him before the voice continued, hardening once again. "But if you won't tell me what's going on then you will leave me with no choice. This is serious, Edward!"

Ed scowled as the relief vanished and anger took its place. "No! Give me back my papers!" He tugged a little, but his father's grip was too strong and he didn't want to tear his notes.

"Not until you tell me what this is all about."

"I won't!"

"What's going on, Edward?!"

"It's none of your damn business, Colonel!"

Ed thought maybe there had been too many moments of complete silence in the past twelve hours. He bit his tongue harshly as his father stared, stunned speechless. Then the moment was broken as the papers were release by both father and son and they fluttered to the floor in a shuffle.

"What did you call me?" his father's voice was quiet and void of emotion.

Ed stammered, struggling to reply. "I – I meant… General. No! I mean… Dad… _shit_!" He turned away abruptly and sat heavily on his bed, burying his head in his hands. He'd really blown it this time. He _never_ called his father by his rank and even if he did, it wouldn't have been 'Colonel' – not in this time anyway. In the past… that was all he ever him – Colonel Mustang, or Colonel Bastard, or even just Colonel. But now… he would know. And then it would be over.

"Fullmetal." It wasn't an accident this time. It wasn't a slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment. This time his father whispered the word – slowly, intentionally, almost reverently.

Ed didn't look up. He didn't want to face whatever was coming next. He just wanted to go back in time and start the whole day over again. Maybe if he'd done things differently, it wouldn't have come to this. Maybe –

"Ed." His father called softly. Ed said nothing. He felt the mattress sink as his father sat down next to him. "Ed, look at me." Ed didn't move. He thought about rolling over and burying himself under his blanket, pretending to be asleep – not that it would actually work, but hiding sounded really good right about now.

"Look at me, Fullmetal! That's an order!"

Ed jumped and looked up at the sound of his commander's voice – like a voice from the past barking at him for his most recent act of stupidity. It was strange to think that this was the same voice he'd heard every day for twelve years, but so different as a father instead of a superior officer.

Colonel Mustang's gaze was sharp but it softened the moment Ed met his eyes. The boy gasped softly at the change, not able to wrap his mind around how one man could be 'Colonel' and 'Dad' at the same time. The man lifted one hand and grasped Ed's chin gently but firmly, so that he could not look away again. He stared into his eyes for several moments, and Ed thought, perhaps, those dark eyes could look into his very soul.

"You remember." The Colonel said, finally.

Ed could only nod in reply, but he bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, unable to hold that gaze any longer. His chin was released and the bed shifted again as his father stood up and started pacing the room, mindless of the papers still scattered about.

"How long have you known?"

Ed looked up at the question, curious at the raw emotion hidden behind his father's words. But nothing showed on the man's face as he continued to walk back and forth, from one end of the room to the other. It wasn't really a lot of space and Ed vaguely wondered if it was really possible to wear a hole in the floor if you paced the same spot over and over.

"Um…" He thought back, searching for a reply. It seemed safe enough. The Colonel already knew the truth and he hadn't blown up or stormed out on him yet, so he might as well explain the rest. "I guess it started right after my automail surgery but… I only started making sense of it all about a month ago."

"When I left?"

Ed shrugged. "Around then… it was really confusing mostly. I didn't figure out that I was… am… Fullmetal until after Major Armstrong's presentation on career day."

The Colonel looked at him sharply. "_Armstrong_ told you?!"

"What? No, he didn't tell me. He didn't even realize I was in the room until he'd been talking about me – about Fullmetal – for several minutes. Some of the other students were asking about it. But when he saw me, he changed the subject. I didn't even figure it out then though. It wasn't until I got home and found the pictures…"

"What pictures?"

Ed stood up and looked around on the floor, shuffling some of the papers around until he found the two pictures hiding under one in the corner. "These." He handed them to his father. "They were in your office. Lilyate knocked over the box…" He stopped trying to explain. His father didn't really seem to be listening anyway.

The man stared at the two pictures for a moment and then dropped heavily into Ed's desk chair. "I should've remembered to put it away." He sounded like he was angry at himself.

"It's not your fault." Ed countered, sitting back down on his bed. "I probably would have figured it out without the pictures; it just would've taken longer."

His father eyed him curiously for a moment. "So it didn't all just come back at once?"

"It still isn't all back." Ed groaned and gestured to the papers on the floor. "That's what all this is for. I'm still trying to make sense of everything. It's like putting together a puzzle with half the pieces missing."

"That's never easy."

"Tell me about it."

An uneasy silence fell between them and Ed flopped back on his bed to stare at the ceiling, wondering what his father was going to ask next and when everything was going to come crashing down.

"Ed." His father said softly. "Why didn't you just tell us?"

Ed sighed, starting to wonder that himself. Now that his father knew… it was like some kind of weight had been lifted off of his chest. He didn't have to lie anymore. He didn't have to hide anything. And maybe… maybe his parents would actually help him with all of this. It seemed kind of silly now, to have kept it from them.

"I don't know." He replied, still staring at the ceiling. "I mean… at first I didn't really know what was going on. I thought they were just dreams – nothing to worry about. And then, I thought maybe I was going crazy and I was too scared to say anything."

"And after that? When you found out the truth?"

Ed bit his lip, not wanting to admit to his fears, to the anger he'd felt towards his parents for lying to him – well, not really lying but not telling him the truth either. He was still angry about that. Sitting up abruptly, he settled a hard look on his father.

"Why didn't you ever tell me the truth?"

The Colonel was startled by the question for only a moment before he closed his eyes and shook his head with a wry smile. "You know, your mother and I must've debated about that dozens of times – when we would tell you… _if_ we would tell you. How do tell your son that he used to be someone else? I think figuring out _how_ to tell you would have been a deciding factor on whether or not we did. Either way, we hadn't planned on saying anything until you were older."

Ed took a deep breath and allowed his anger to dissipate. What his father was saying made a lot of sense. How _would _they have told him something like that? It was so farfetched. He probably wouldn't have believed it even now if he didn't have the memories to back it up.

"Did you know? That I would get my memories back?"

His father shrugged and stood up, crossing the room to sit next to Ed on the bed again. "We considered it a possibility but there wasn't really any way to know for sure. In the past few days, we were starting to guess that you had remembered, but we didn't want to say anything, in case we were wrong."

"That makes sense, I guess." Ed folded his hands his lap and stared at the contrast between metal and flesh. "I feel kind of stupid now for not saying anything."

He almost jumped when he felt the Colonel's hand on his shoulder. "I can't imagine this has been easy for you, Son. It's a lot to take in. I'm sorry we didn't realize what was going on before now."

Ed didn't really hear anything beyond the end of the first sentence. He stared at the hand on his shoulder and wondered at how easily the familial term had flowed from the Colonel's tongue. Looking the other way he bit his lip harshly before lifting his automail to slowly remove the Colonel's hand from his shoulder. "You don't have to keep calling me that, you know." He tried to keep his voice steady but it caught in the middle and he winced, hoping the man hadn't noticed.

"What? Son?" The Colonel's voice sounded surprised. "I've been calling you 'son' for twelve years."

"Yeah, but," Ed shrugged, trying to look casual and nonchalant. "I know the truth now so… you don't have to keep… pretending."

"_What?_" Ed looked up at the harshness of his father's voice, but turned away from the angry look in his eyes. "Edward. Maes. Mustang."

Ed shut his eyes against the sound of his full name and wished he could shut off his ears as well. It hurt to hear it now, because that wasn't his name… not anymore. "It's Elric." He muttered, even as his breath caught in his throat and his chest felt like it was burning.

"No." The firm certainty of his father's voice brought Ed's eyes up to stare at the man once more. "November 17th, 1914, Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist was declared Missing in Action. Investigations took up the case and a search team was sent out. He was never found although there was evidence that a fierce battle took place in the area Fullmetal was last seen." The Colonel spoke as though he were reading an official report and Ed listened with rapt attention, wondering if the man had actually read it enough times that he had it memorized. "This is the official record. Three years after a soldier is declared MIA, his file is transferred to reflect a presumption of death. As far as the military and the rest of the world know, Edward Elric no longer exists. Only a few trusted individuals no otherwise. I imagine you can guess who those people are."

Ed blinked, realizing that the Colonel was waiting for him to answer. "You." He said firmly. "and Mom, obviously… Winry, Uncle Je – I mean, Havoc… and Breda and Fuery and Falman, right?" The Colonel nodded but didn't say anything which led Ed to believe there were more. _So much for a few_. He frowned and thought for a moment. "Does… Major Armstrong know?" He asked apprehensively.

Mustang chuckled and smirked, but nodded. "Yes. Major Armstrong knows."

"And Aunt Gracia." Ed said finally, realizing that Gracia Hughes would surely know as well. The Colonel nodded, and apparently that was everyone because he opened his mouth to continue, but Ed cut him off. "Does Elicia know?"

"No… well…" The question made Mustang pause a moment, to think. "We never told her." He said slowly. "I'm not really sure how much she actually remembers from that time. She was very young. But I suppose it's possible she might have figured it out. She's spent enough time with you. Has she ever said anything to indicate that she might know?"

Ed shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Then at the very least, she knows not to talk about it. But really, I don't think she knows. I mean, a fifteen year old boy suddenly becoming an infant – it's not exactly a natural leap in logic. If it weren't for your missing limbs and the color of your eyes, we probably wouldn't have known it was you ourselves."

"How did that happen anyway?" Ed asked – because that was something he couldn't wrap his own head around, and he was the one it had happened to.

His father frowned. "You don't remember?"

"No." Ed shook his head. "There's a lot of stuff I don't remember. And what I do remember is really just bits and pieces."

"Hmm… I was really hoping that we could finally solve that mystery." The Colonel responded.

"You mean, you don't know either?"

The man shook his head. "By the time we found you… whatever had happened to you was already over. Other than an inordinate amount of blood, which made it seem as though you or someone else had been gravely injured, there was nothing to indicate what had happened. We brought you back to Central and kept you a secret, hoping that we could figure out what happened and find a way to reverse it. After about a month of searching, we realized that there was nothing we could do. Whatever had happened to you was permanent and the only thing we could do was find a place for you to live and grow up a second time – hopefully without all of the hardships you endured in you first childhood."

Ed bit his lip, considering the little he remembered about his first childhood. There were happy memories, but there was also a lot of sadness – his father leaving, his mother dying. He was glad this childhood had been easier, but… "But why did _you_ adopt me?"

The Colonel raised one eyebrow to look at him quizzically. "Why not? I've told you before Ed, I chose to keep you."

"But _why_?! It doesn't make any sense. You hated me!"

"Whoa! Ed, I never hated you."

"Yes, you did. I remember! We never got along. We were always fighting and arguing. I used to drive you crazy!"

"That's true. That's all true." Mustang put a hand on Ed's shoulder and met his eyes firmly. "But I _never_ hated you Ed. Keep in mind that we were_ both_ very different back then. You were a stubborn, disrespectful teenager and I was…" He smirked and winced simultaneously. "I was Colonel Bastard with a god-complex."

Ed grinned widely, recognizing the phrase as something he would have used, even if he didn't remember it. "So you finally admit it!" The Colonel just ignored him and kept talking.

"Yes, you made me want to rip my hair out at times and I despised the paperwork that always ended up on my desk after you inevitably destroyed something on you missions. There were times when I wondered why the hell I thought it was a good idea to invite a _teenager _to join the military." He paused and frowned. "It wasn't a good idea. I never should have brought you into that mess." His voice drifted off in what Ed realized was a bout of guilt. His father felt _guilty_ for getting him into the military. But that wasn't right

_It was my choice and besides…_ "I needed the military." He argued firmly. "Colonel, if you hadn't showed up when you did… I don't know what I would have done." He got up suddenly and stooped to rifle through the papers on the floor, searching. When he found what he was looking for, he shoved the paper under the Colonel's nose. "Here! See! I remember that day, when you came to Resembool. I'd given up! I felt hopeless. I'd failed and there was nothing I could do. But then you showed up and gave me a reason to get back up on my feet and keep moving forward. You saved me that day!" He stopped, embarrassed by his words. But they were true. The journal page covered the same memory in more detail and he watched as the Colonel read through his notes. When he came to the end, Ed spoke up again. "I didn't really know you that well then… and I guess when I got to know you later some of that hero worship died away… you really an arrogant jerk plus I… I guess I really didn't do too well with father figures considering my own father was such a bastard."

"Watch your language." Mustang said firmly, and Ed was startled to realize just how quickly he'd jumped back into father mode."

"Well, he was…" Ed muttered, feeling sufficiently chastised and then marveling at how he fell so easily back into his role as son. "A-anyway, I may not have shown it much, or – well, ever at all but – I think I always sort of looked up to you, even then."

His father smiled softly and then gestured with the paper in his hand. "I remember that boy. When I first saw him, he seemed so broken. But then I really got a good look at him and I saw a fire in his eyes. I saw that same fire in his eyes every time I saw him for the next four years. He may have driven me crazy but I have to admit that he was the strongest, bravest, _coolest_ kid I'd ever met." Ed grinned at the praise and his father smirked before continuing. "And you know what the best part is?"

"What?"

"I still get to see that fire every day. And you know how much I like fire." He smiled and reached out to ruffled Ed's hair.

Ed laughed and pushed the hand away. "You're such a pyromaniac." They both chuckled for a few moments before Ed got serious again. "I still don't get it though. Why adopt me? I mean, why not just take me back to Resembool? I'm sure Winry and Granny Pinako would have taken me in."

"I did actually." His father replied easily, causing Ed to look up in surprise.

"You did?"

His father nodded. "Yes. When I realized that we couldn't change you back into a teenager, the logical thing seemed to be to take you back to the place you grew up the first time. You'd always treated the Rockbell's like family and vice versa, so I knew they'd take you in. I brought you there myself, a month after we found you, explained the situation and left you in their care."

Ed nodded slowly, but frowned. "So what happened? Did they not want me?"

"On the contrary, they were more than happy to keep you." His father sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid it's my fault you ended up back here in Central."

"What do you mean? How is your fault?"

Mustang chuckled as though remembering something humorous. "Well, after about a week of putting up with me calling three to four times a day to check up on you, Pinako told me that if I was going to keep acting like your father, I might as well take you back to Central and adopt you myself. So that's what I did."

Ed's mouth fell open. "You're joking… Why would you keep calling like that? Did you not trust them to take care of me?"

His father smiled and shook his head. "No, I trusted them, it's just… well, you'd already lived with me for a month by that point. While we were still figuring things out, you needed a place to stay and I was the only one with my own place. We couldn't exactly keep a baby in the military barracks."

"Yeah, that wouldn't go over well." Ed agreed.

"It was awful at first. I didn't have a clue what I was doing but Riza helped a lot and we all took turns watching you during work hours. But I was still with you the most and well… at some point during that month… I got used to having you around. When I got back to Central… the house was just too quiet. I spent a few days trying to deny how much I missed you but… that didn't stop me from coming up with excuses to call the Rockbell house."

Ed smiled at the picture his father was painting with his words. He could just imagine the famous _Hero of Ishval _calling Granny Pinako to remind _her_ that the baby's favorite color was red and that he liked his formula to be lukewarm instead of hot. His grin turned wicked at the thought.

"Gee, Colonel. I didn't realize you'd gone so soft." He teased.

"Knock it off, kid." His father threw a half-hearted punch which Ed easily avoided. "And stop calling me Colonel. I'm a General now, remember."

"Yeah, I know." Ed said assuredly. He shrugged. "But… before, I only ever knew you as Colonel. And now you're just Dad. I've never really called you General before. It's weird. Besides, actual rank aside, I think Colonel Mustang sounds better. Rolls off the tongue a little neater, don't you think?"

The Colonel eyed his skeptically. "I think you're crazy."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just keep going. I want to hear the rest of the story, _Dad_."

His father smiled. "Alright, well, I can't say that you were much better off than I was. You were crying when I left you in Resembool and you cried for two days straight after that, according to Pinako. You can ask Winry if you don't believe me," he added as Ed opened his mouth to argue. "And when I went back to pick you up… well, let's just say you turned into Velcro-baby. You wouldn't let me put you down for anything. Apparently, you'd grown just as attached to me as I was to you. So I took you back to Central and adopted you – one of the few times I actually filled out paperwork of my own free will. That was January 5th, 1915."

"My birthday." Ed confirmed and then frowned. That wasn't right.

"Technically, it's your adoption day." His father corrected.

Ed nodded slowly. "Right, cause my actual birthday is in… February?"

Mustang nodded. "February 3rd, unless you lied on your military records."

"Hey, I didn't lie!" Ed countered, indignantly.

"Relax, I'm just teasing. Anyway, we used January 5th for several reasons. First of all, you were already there so February 3rd, 1915 was out of the question. But you were too young to have been born on February 3rd, 1914. Also, it would have been too much of a coincidence. We didn't want people automatically connecting you to Fullmetal. It was enough of a stretch to convince people that it made sense for _me_ to adopt a boy with two missing limbs and name him after my lost comrade. We considered using November 17th, the day we found you, but that was also too obvious. Officially, you were and unknown orphan with an unspecified date of birth so we could choose to celebrate on any day. Technically, you're almost two months older than what it says on your school records but that just makes it harder for anyone to try and connect you to the past."

"Wait," Ed held up a hand to stop the story. "If you didn't want people to connect me to… me… why didn't you just change my name? I was unknown, officially. You could have called me anything. Why call me Edward?"

His father gave him a funny look. "Can you really imagine being called something other than Ed?"

Ed opened his mouth the say yes but then realized that he really did like his name. He was comfortable with it and he didn't know if he'd be comfortable with anything else. He shrugged. "I guess not."

"Neither could we. We'd already been calling you Ed and by that point it just didn't seem right to change it. You were Ed and that was that. Now, your last name obviously had to change. You couldn't be Elric when Edward Elric was supposed to be MIA. Since I was the one adopting you, it made sense to give you my last name. That's how you became a Mustang. I hope you don't mind."

Ed grinned. "Well, it's better Smith, or Roof, or… _Armstrong_." He shuddered.

"Actually…" his father said leadingly.

Ed's eyes grew wide. "He didn't!"

"He offered." Mustang cringed. "Apparently the art of child rearing has been –"

"– passed down the Armstrong line for generations!" Ed concluded dramatically, bringing both arms up in a muscle-man pose. They both laughed and Ed had to lean his head against his father's shoulder to keep himself from rolling off the bed. As the laughter died down he flopped backwards onto his pillow and sighed, still grinning widely. "Thank you for saving me!"

"Aw, c'mon. He's not that bad. He's a good guy. And the Armstrong family is rich. You'd have been… happy there." Mustang had to cough through a snicker at the end.

"No, thank you! I like my bones in one piece. I am much better off as a Mustang."

"Well good, cause that's what you are. Now settle down and let me finish this story so we can go to bed."

Ed sat up again, eagerly. "There's more?"

"Of course there's more. Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes!"

Roy smiled at his son's enthusiasm. "Alright, so I filled out the paperwork, but there was one blank space that I kept coming back to – the spot for a middle name. Now, I was never sure – did you have a middle name before?"

Ed chewed on his lip and thought for a minute. "I don't… think so… no, I didn't." He concluded firmly, sure that if he'd had a middle name, he'd remember it.

"That's what I thought. Anyway, I was going to leave it blank. But then I remembered a promise I'd made a long time ago."

"What kind of promise?" Ed asked.

His father countered with a question of his own. "What's your middle name?"

"Maes."

"And where did I get that name?" There was something serious about Mustang's voice as he asked this but his expression didn't change. He was still smiling… so why did he seem sad?

Ed shrugged. "I dunno."

His father said nothing in reply which made Ed realize he should know the answer, or at least be able to figure it out. So he thought about it. _Maes… Maes… I don't know anyone named Maes. Not now anyway. Maybe… did I know a Maes before? Dad must have. So a friend of Dad's maybe? Maes… Maes… Hughes? _He gasped, drawing his father's attention.

"You figure it out?"

"Hughes…" Ed whispered the name reverently. "Maes Hughes… you named me after Mr. Hughes?"

"I did." His father confirmed.

"Why?!" Ed almost shouted. "Why would you do that? He was… He was so great. I don't deserve –"

"Stop." The Colonel's voice commanded and Ed obeyed. "I think if Hughes was here right now, he'd slap you silly for even suggesting that you don't deserve his name. Now be quiet and listen." Mustang sighed and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling with a sad smile. "You know he was my best friend right?"

"Yeah." Ed muttered.

It was quiet for a moment, as Mustang contemplated what to say. Then he began. "Hughes was always a family man. Even before he met Gracia he used to regale me with stories about the beautiful wife and children he would have someday. He would tease me a lot too, as you can probably imagine. He swore that one day I would make an amazing father." He smirked. "I laughed at that. I had no plans of settling down any time soon. I was climbing the ladder and I swore I'd make it to the top or die trying. A family didn't fit into those plans. But Hughes was persistent and, when I kept denying the possibility, he made a bet out of it. He made me swear that if he was right, that if I somehow, miraculously, became a father one day, that I would name my first son after him. Of course, I didn't think it would ever happen, so I didn't have any qualms about promising."

Ed listened carefully to the story. It was so easy to imagine Mr. Hughes saying those things – and for him to make that kind of bet made perfect sense. He watched his father run a hand through his hair before continuing.

"So there I was holding Velcro-baby in one arm and trying to fill out paperwork with the other, when it suddenly dawned on me that I was about to become a father. Once those papers were turned in, it would be official. Hughes was right and I couldn't very well dishonor his memory by denying him the promise I'd made all those years ago. I couldn't name you directly after him of course. You were already Ed. But I think he'd understand. He always liked you. So I went back up to that blank box and I gave you a middle name – his name – Maes."

Silence fell in the room as Mustang finish telling his story, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Ed sat in wonder, trying to picture his father juggling a baby and paperwork. For once, he didn't find anything funny about the image. It was – heartwarming. It almost made him want to cry – in a good way! – but he didn't. He just looked at his father with a certain feeling of amazement and the love that only a son can feel for his father.

But suddenly those dark eyes were looking straight at him, startling him out of his reverie. "Do you understand now, Edward?"

Ed blinked. "Understand… what?"

His father stared at him hard and explained slowly. "I am not, nor have I ever been, _pretending_ that you are my son. I chose you, Edward. I gave you my name and the name best friend because I wanted you to be my son – my family. It goes deeper than blood, Edward. And I realize that this is a very confusing time for you. You've got a lot of memories to sort through and figure out, and I am willing to help you with that – we all are. I can understand if those memories make it difficult for you to continue to see me as your father. There is a lot of past between us that I have had twelve years to work through – you haven't. And I can see how some things may make it difficult for you to see me that way. But I need you to know one thing – memories or no memories, _you are my son_. I won't go so far as to say I saw you that way before the change. But from the moment I picked you up and held you in my arms, _I knew_ how important you would be to me. That isn't going to change. I will always be there for you, no matter what."

He finished speaking and, for a long moment, they stared at one another, waiting. Ed wasn't sure who moved first, but in the next instant he found himself held tightly in his father's arms – and it felt _so right_. He shuddered slightly as tears leaked from his eyes but he didn't bother to wipe them away. They were tears of joy, of relief as all the fears and doubts of the past month were washed away. All of the confusion and uncertainty of uncontrolled memories were held at bay by the safety of his father's arms. He was surrounded in warmth and black coffee and fire and their month log separation didn't matter anymore. Their fight didn't matter. Everything was as it should be in this one moment.

When they finally pulled apart, Ed looked up to catch his father wiping his face in the same way that he was wiping his own. They both smiled and laughed a little but there was no teasing or judgment in either of their eyes.

"Dad?" Ed said seriously, after a moment.

"Yes, Son."

Ed smiled at the term and took a deep breath. "I do… still see you as my father. I mean… yeah it's weird cause you're the Colonel and all but… you're still my dad. And you're the only real father I've ever had."

His father smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. Ed didn't push him away.

"Alright, bed time." His father stood up but Ed grabbed his hand to pull him back. Suddenly, the boy was not tired at all.

"Wait! I can't go to sleep now! I've got so many questions. Like whatever happened to the Homunculi? And did you ever catch Scar? Where are those guys from Xing? Did Havoc ever find Breda's doughnut stash? Did –"

"Edward." His father cut him off and looked at him seriously. "I am more than happy to answer any questions you have… tomorrow."

"But –"

"It is…" Mustang took out his pocket watch and flipped it open to check the time. "Two o'clock in the morning. I just got back from Xoporor not seven hours ago and I am really looking forward to sleeping in a real bed."

Ed shut his mouth and didn't argue. His father was right. It was too late at night and they'd have plenty of time to go over things the next day – thank goodness for Saturday's. He nodded but then smirked and faked an exasperated sigh. "Alright, I guess I'll let you get you beauty sleep, you lazy Colonel."

"Who are you calling lazy, shrimp?"

"Who are you calling a shrimp, you sideways excuse for a giant?!"

"That didn't make any sense."

"I don't care!"

Mustang smirked. "I missed you, Fullmetal."

Ed stopped short, forgetting his next retort. He smiled. "Yeah. It's good to be back." He looked at his father and then glanced around the messy room. He was going to have a _fun_ time reassembling his journal in the morning. His eyes came to rest on his bedside table and the figure that had been standing guard for the past few weeks. The smile slipped off his face and settled into a frown.

"Dad?"

His father had turned to leave the room, but he looked back now and his eyes widened as he watched his son take the small suit of armor from its place and hold it tenderly in his arms. The boy looked up at him, desperately, pleadingly. And when he spoke, his voice was small.

"Dad… Where's Al?"

Ed watched his father freeze and almost regretted bringing this up now, when things were so good between them. But he needed to know – this at least, he needed.

The room was quiet as Mustang returned to his bedside and sat back down, before gingerly taking the figure from his son, to hold it in his own lap. He smiled sadly as he gently touched the head of the statue and noted the transmutation marks from his own, imperfect, repair job. "It really is a beautiful piece, Son. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

The words of praise seemed dull to Ed as his father evaded the question. He firmly took back his statue. "Where is he? Where's Alphonse?"

Mustang sighed and looked down, clearly not wanting to answer, but knowing Ed wouldn't let him leave until he did.

"I don't know." He whispered, his voice tight with emotion. "I'm sorry, Ed. We looked everywhere, spared everyone we could to search for him. But there was no trace. I'm sorry."

Ed hung his head, his hopes dashed – but not destroyed. No, just because he hadn't been found yet didn't mean Al wasn't still out there somewhere, waiting to be found. And Ed would find him. But still, it hurt to realize that his father didn't have the answers he was looking for.

"It's not your fault." He said assuredly, noting his father's defeated demeanor. "You did everything you could… I… Thanks for trying."

For another long moment, they sat there. Ed stared at the statue of his brother and Roy stared at the ground. Ed wondered if his father had more to say or if maybe he was just falling asleep. But then the man spoke again, his voice tight, and grim, and filled with guilt.

"It is my fault, Ed."

Ed frowned. "What are you talking about? You weren't even there."

"No. But Alphonse wasn't supposed to be their either."

"What do you mean?"

Mustang shook his head sadly. "You asked me to keep him in Central – to not tell him about the mission – to protect him. And I said I would. Only… he found out. I don't even know how but he found out where you were going and went after you… And I didn't stop him. I mean, I tried to, at first. But he wouldn't listen. So I gave up. I gave up too easily and he'd gone now… because of me."

Ed wasn't sure what to make of this revelation. His father was trying to take the blame for Al's disappearance but… It wasn't like Mustang had sent his brother into battle. Al wasn't in the military. Mustang couldn't order him to go anywhere. And he couldn't order him to stay either. No, this wasn't Mustangs fault. More likely, it was Ed's for trying to keep things from Al in the first place. Al hated that. Of course, Ed still couldn't remember that mission or what happened during it so he wasn't ready to go breaking down in guilt just yet. He needed to find Al first.

"It's not your fault." Ed repeated, more firmly this time. "Al can be as stubborn as I am when he wants to be. And he's a giant suit of armor. If he wants to go somewhere, he goes and nothing can stop him short of removing his legs. It was stupid of me to ask you to do that. It's not your fault, Dad."

Ed rested his hand on his father's shoulder and felt a strange reversal of roles pass through them. Mustang seemed to notice it too because he smirked half-heartedly. "You know I've tried to provide you with everything you could ever need here. But I've always regretted not being able to give you back your brother."

Ed swallowed thickly but put on a determined smile. "It's okay. Like I said, Al's stubborn. He's out there somewhere. I just have to find him."

His father frowned. "Ed, the case is cold. There haven't been any leads in years."

"Maybe that's true." Ed shrugged. "But is there anyone in the world who knows Al as well as I do?" He grinned and met his father's eyes, hoping he could see that fire he was talking about earlier, shining through. "I will find him."

Apparently, Mustang saw what Ed wanted him to see because the man smiled and nodded. "I believe you." He stood up again and took the figure from Ed, placing little Alphonse back on the bedside table and then motioning for Ed to lie down so he could be tucked in. The boy rolled his eyes but complied. "Tell you what," Mustang started. "On Monday, you can come into the office after school and you can look through the old case files. Maybe you'll find something we missed."

Ed nodded and let his father tuck the blankets up to his chin. "Thanks, Dad."

His father smiled and ruffled his hair before moving to turn of the light and leave the room.

"Dad?"

Roy turned back to look at his son.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too. Good night, Son."


	11. in which there are hotcakes

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** It has come to my attention that this story will soon have 200 reviews. I can't begin to describe how grateful I am for your continued support and appreciation. While I'm not one to respond to every review, I do take the time to read them and consider each one seriously. Several of you have expressed interest in reading more about Kale and Bri – I still haven't decided if Ed should tell them or not. I know you're all waiting to see the office gang – you'll have to wait till the next chapter though; more family time in this one. Speaking of which, a lot of reviewers have mentioned wanting to read more about Ed's childhood with Roy and Riza. In light of this interest, and a few half-formed fic-lets buzzing around in my brain, I am considering writing a separate mini-series of sorts, entitled _A Home for a Boy Named Ed_. It would consist of one-shots in no chronological order and be updated sporadically. I only have a few ideas for it right now but if anyone has a suggestion of a scene they'd like to see played out, feel free to let me know.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

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**Chapter 11, in which there are hotcakes**

The scent of sweet, fried batter permeated the kitchen and Riza wondered how long it would take for the fumes to reach her still sleeping son. _Surely they will be enough to draw him from his slumber_, she thought with a smile. Normally she wouldn't have permitted the boy to sleep so late, even on a Saturday, if he wasn't sick. It was nearly ten. But her husband had informed her of the late night they'd both had and the circumstances convinced her to allow the lay-in just this once. Still, if he didn't get up soon, she would be dragging him out of bed herself.

"Are those hotcakes?" a tired, yawning voice sounded from the hallway. Riza turned to see her son staggering into the kitchen, still dressed in rumbled clothes, his hair uncombed, and rubbing one eye with his left hand. Apparently the smell of breakfast had done the trick.

"They are." Riza replied. "Wash your hands and have a seat. They'll be done in a few minutes."

Ed moved to the sink to do as he was told, then detoured to the cupboard to fetch a glass before moving to the icebox. "You're amazing, Mom. You know that?" he said, still sounding half asleep.

Riza chuckled but frowned as Ed bypassed the milk bottle and reached instead for the juice. "Milk, Edward." She insisted, keeping her tone light but firm.

The boy frowned sharply and glared at the bottle of white sustenance. His mother had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at the old, familiar expression. Now that she knew, it was so easy to see the young man she'd once worked with in the boy she now called her son. "Come now Ed. You've been drinking milk for twelve years without complaint. Just because you remember disliking milk in the past doesn't mean you can get out of drinking it now."

The boy gasped softly and looked at her, wide eyed. She stared back, calmly, and allowed the hint of a knowing smile to show through her eyes. He said nothing at first. Turning away, he looked back at the icebox and, after a moment of indecision, grabbed the bottle of milk and poured himself a glass. Riza nodded and turned back to the range, where a few hotcakes were ready to be flipped. She listened as her son put the milk away and carried his glass to the table.

He sat down and took a deep breath before saying, "Dad told you?" It wasn't really a question or a statement – somewhere in between really – and his voice sounded almost nervous.

"He did." Riza replied simply, moving to face her son again. She waited as Ed seemed to chew over whatever words he wanted to say next.

Another deep breath to steel his nerves then, "I'm sorry… for the way I've been acting lately. I didn't mean to make things hard on you. I just…" he trailed off with a half shrug and look down to stare unseeing at the swirls of cream in his milk.

Riza smiled and walked across the kitchen to lay a hand on the boy's shoulder. She waited for him to look up at her. "It's alright, Ed. This couldn't have been easy for you. I only wish you'd told us sooner."

Ed laughed sheepishly and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "Yeah, I… feel kinda stupid for not saying anything before. I was just… scared I guess. Only now I can't remember what there was to be scared of. You and Dad have always been there for me… I should've known that this wouldn't change anything."

"You're right about that." She went back to the stove to take the hotcakes off the pan. "Can you get the syrup and butter out Ed? And set the table please."

"Yeah, sure." Ed took a sip of his milk before getting up and puttering around the kitchen to do as he was told. It was as he was reaching for the plates that he paused. "Where is Dad, anyway? He's not still sleeping, is he?"

"No, he had to go to the office." Riza replied absently as she poured more batter onto the skillet.

"Oh…" The defeated sound prompted Riza to turn and look at her boy who was staring sadly at the three plates he'd taken down from the shelf. With a heavy sigh, he moved to put one back.

"Three plates, Ed."

"Huh? But I thought…"

"You're father will be back shortly. He just had to pick up a few things." Her words seemed to cheer the boy greatly because his smile returned and his shoulders relaxed as he carried all three plates to the table. Riza watched awhile longer, as Ed proceeded to gather forks and table knives and set these out next to their respective plates. As an afterthought, he went back to the cupboard and took out three cloth napkins, which were usually reserved for special dinners, folded them neatly and placed them beneath the silverware. Apparently, they were having a fancy breakfast this morning. He picked up his glass of milk and downed it quickly before rinsing the glass and taking two more from the cupboard. He filled each of these with orange juice before setting them on the table. Finally, he brought out a cutting board and a knife and, taking these to the fruit bowl, set about cutting an apple into neat little slices.

Riza wondered if his actions and decisions regarding breakfast were some small effort to make up for his behavior over the past few weeks or if he was simply looking forward to their first family meal in over a month. It was certainly _her_ Ed who did these things because she couldn't imagine Edward of the past putting this much effort into anything so domestic. It was more something Alphonse would have done. Perhaps before though, when he was a young boy living with his mother and brother in Resembool, he would have done something like this. But she hadn't known that boy. She'd only known the surly teenager who would slam open doors and scarf down meals and scream rudely at anyone who insinuated anything about his height.

The Edward before her now, her Ed, was sweet and caring, mostly polite and eager to please, yet still mischievous and determined to do things on his own, still proud and strong and fiercely protective of those he cared about. And she couldn't help but wonder if this was how Fullmetal would have been if his early years hadn't been so wrought with turmoil. In that, she felt that she and Roy had done something good, providing Ed with a safe and loving home, free from strife. Now that his memories were returning, she could only hope that the foundation they had provided him, over the past twelve years, would be enough to support him through the trials to come.

The sound of the front door opening and the jangling of keys alerted them both to Roy's return before his voice called out, "I'm home!"

Ed's face lit up in a brilliant smile and Riza cherished the sight. Over the past few weeks, any mention of his father had brought only sullen expressions from the boy. Now… it was good to the love and light returned to his eyes. It comforted Riza, reassuring her that everything would be alright.

"Dad! Mom made hotcakes!"

"I can smell that." Roy came into the kitchen a few seconds later, still wearing his coat and carrying a large, cardboard filing box. He put the box down before coming around the table to greet his wife. "Looks delicious." He leaned over her and reached for the pile of hotcakes, only to have his hand swatted by a wooden spoon. Riza glared at him but Roy just smirked innocently and kissed her quickly.

"Whoa…" Both adults turned from the stove to look at the boy who had paused in his apple cutting and was staring at them, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"What?" Roy asked, suspiciously.

Ed shut his mouth and then opened it again before stating the obvious. "You guys are married."

Roy stared incredulously. "You're just now realizing that?" he muttered.

Riza removed the last hotcake from the pan and turned off the stove before answering her son carefully. "Yes, Ed. We've been married for quite some time now. You were at the wedding. Remember?"

Ed nodded slowly. "Yeah… I remember. I just… I _so_ did not see that coming. Before I mean…"

Roy snorted suddenly, chuckled, and then laughed out loud. "Honestly, Fullmetal. You really were oblivious weren't you?"

"Hey! I'm pretty sure I had more important concerns at the time than the love affairs of my superior officer! And it wasn't like the two of you ever did anything at the office. You were always so professional, er, well – the Lieutenant was anyway. But I seem to recall _you_ had a different date every week! So how was I supposed to figure out anything was going on?"

"Well, considering most of those 'dates' were informant meetings and half of them were my sisters –"

"Sisters?" Ed asked, cutting his father off. The man answered with a look that said _figure it out yourself_, spurring Ed to think for a moment before comprehension lit his face. "Oh, right! Mammy Christmas' girls. But that still doesn't explain how _you two_ ended up together!"

"I suppose we have you to thank for that, Ed." Riza cut in before her husband could reply. She placed the plate of hotcakes on the table and nodded to the apples on the counter. "Finish cutting those, please."

Ed looked around, remembering his task, and picked up the knife before asking, "Me? What do I have to do with it?"

"Nothing!"

"Everything." Riza corrected her husband with a significant look. "If it weren't for you I doubt your father ever would have gotten around to asking me."

"That's not true!"

"Oh, really?" Ed finished chopping the apples and went to the cupboard for a bowl, a mischievous twinkle glinting in his eye at his newly acquired knowledge.

Riza ignored her husband and smiled fondly. "After he adopted you, and even before really, I spent a lot of time helping him care for you. You don't honestly think he managed to take care of a baby all by himself, do you?"

"Not at all." Ed grinned. Roy didn't respond, choosing instead to sulk against the counter.

"I came over frequently and often spent the night to give your father a break from late night feedings and diaper changes. I suppose it was only natural that we would grow closer over the course of raising a child together, but it wasn't until you started calling me 'Mama' that Roy finally decided to make it official."

Ed paused in transferring the apples to their bowl, mulling the story over in his mind. "So… what you're saying is that the _only_ reason Dad asked you to marry him is because _I_ decided that you would make a good mother?"

"Not the only reason!" Roy sputtered indignantly. Ed turned his mischievous grin on his father.

"Cause you know, Dad, that's a pretty pathetic ploy – using a _baby_ as a girl magnet. I mean, I could see Havoc trying something like that, but you? Honestly…" he shook his head. "And on top of that, you _used_ me to get her to marry you. That's just low. I thought marriage was supposed to be about _love_ and _trust_ and –"

"I'll have you know that your mother and I love each other very much!" Roy insisted. "Our marriage is based on a solid foundation of years of friendship, trust, loyalty –"

Ed's grin only widened. "Not the way Mom tells it."

"You need proof?! Fine!" Roy reached out and snagged his wife's arm, pulling her close and capturing her mouth in an intense kiss.

"Eww! Gross! Stop! My eyes!" Ed shouted, covering his face with both arms. He was laughing though, and everyone in the room knew he didn't _really_ have a problem with his parents' display of affection because it _was_ proof that they loved each other and always had. And that love, combined with their love for him and his for them, is what made them a family.

Riza pulled away from her husband and fixed him with a stern glare. "Roy!" He only smirked in reply. "Honestly, half the time I'm not sure who the _child_ is in this family." She turned and sat down at the table. "Now, both of you, sit down so we can eat our breakfast. Considering how late it is, it can hardly be called that anymore. Ed, bring the apples, please."

"Yes, ma'am." Ed replied, still grinning. Soon they were all seated and munching happily on hotcakes laden with butter and syrup.

Ed looked up, halfway through his second hotcake, and marveled at how simply everything had fallen back into place. Only yesterday, he'd been sure his easy life, with his mother and father, was over. His mind had been filled with so much conflict, he had been sure it would carry over into his life and destroy everything he held dear – it nearly had, thanks to his own fears and stupidity. But here they were, with everything out in the open and a plan to sort through his crazy memories, just as strong, if not stronger than they had been before.

He grinned up at his father, recalling their banter – so familiar in both sets of memories, yet somehow different now, as though the jokes and teasing had moved up to a brand new level that was sure to be most entertaining.

As he turned back to his breakfast, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He put a forkful of hotcake in his mouth as he tilted his head to the side to consider the object. " 'ey, Dad? Wafs i da bofs?" This statement earned him a stern glare from both his parents and he swallowed his food before apologizing. "Sorry… What's in the box?" he asked again, more clearly.

Roy turned to look at the box he'd brought home from the office. He smiled secretively. "It's for you, actually."

Ed's eyes lit up. "What? Really?" He pushed his chair back and stood up, prepared to investigate immediately.

"Sit down, Ed. Finish you breakfast." His mother said sternly.

"But Mom…"

"You'll have plenty of time to look through the box _after_ you finish eating."

Ed slumped back in his chair but only sulked for a moment before digging into his meal with a newfound eagerness. He polished off three more hotcakes in record time and downed his glass of orange juice quickly. "I'm done!" He announced.

"And now you can wait for those of us with normal stomachs to finish." His father replied. "You'd think, with as much as you eat, you'd be taller by now."

"I'm not SHORT!"

"And I expect the table to be cleared and the dishes cleaned before we start anything else." His mother added.

This time Ed did sulk, with an exaggerated groan, but he waited almost patiently for his parents to finish and then did his part to clean the kitchen. When everything was finished, he looked eagerly at his father for permission.

Roy smirked smugly and waited an extra thirty seconds before nodding. "Alright, go get the box."

"Yes!" Ed grinned triumphantly and hefted the box onto the table. Just as he was about to lift the lid though, a heavy hand fell on top of it, keeping it closed. He looked up into his father's still smirking face.

"Wait a moment, Ed."

"Ah, c'mon! I've been waiting."

"Close your eyes."

Ed rolled his eyes instead. "Really, Dad?" Roy only nodded so Ed hefted a heavy sigh and complied.

"Now hold out your hands. And no peeking."

Ed did as he was told, listening to the shifting of the box as it was opened. For several moments, nothing happened. "This is silly, Dad. I'm not a little kid. What's –" he stopped as something fell onto his arms, not heavy, but certainly noticeable. It was some kind of thick cloth – a garment of sorts, folded neatly. He rubbed the material between the fingers of his left hand and his breath caught at the familiarity. Suddenly, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. He knew what this was but he thought, somehow, if he looked it would disappear.

"You can open your eyes now, Ed."

He did. He looked down at the coat in his arms, and then up at his father who was still smirking with that smug, all-knowing smirk, and then down again. Red. Red, red, red, with the black Flamel emblazoned in the middle. His left arm started shaking with barely contained excitement as he tried and failed to come up with something to say. "This… I… W-where did you get this?"

His father's eyes were laughing and his mother was smiling brightly. Ed felt like a kid at Summer Solstice.

"It was with you when we found you." Riza answered.

"We had to wrap you in it for the trip back to Central so that no one could see your naked butt."

Ed rolled his eyes at his father's teasing but it wasn't enough to erase the grin from his face. He unfolded the coat and shook it out, holding it up to see it in all its glory. Then, smirking up at his parents, he tossed it around his own shoulders and fit his arms into the sleeves only to have them hang down several inches past his fingertips. He frowned. "It's too big."

"Of course it's too big, Ed." His mother replied, coming around to help him roll the sleeves. "You were fifteen the last time you wore. You're only twelve now."

Ed had to let the absurdity of that statement sink in for a moment. He shook his head. "That just sounds weird. Hey!" He shouted suddenly, realizing. "That means I grew! Hah! Take that Colonel!"

"It also means you shrunk, Shrimp."

"Stop calling me shrimp!"

"Stop calling me colonel."

"Both of you stop."

"Yes ma'am." They replied simultaneously.

Ed looked back down at his coat and was suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. "This… this is amazing. I mean… I'd forgotten about it, till just now but… it's like a piece of my past right here in front of me. Proof… that it's all real and not just in my head."

"Oh it's real, alright. And there's more where that came from."

Ed looked up to see his father reaching back into the box. Of course there was more. A box that big would hold a lot more than just a coat, but Ed could only guess at what his father would pull out next.

A glint of metal and something was tossed his way. Ed caught the object on reflex and then opened his palm to see the crest of Amestris shimmering up at him from the cover of a pocket watch. He frowned a moment, and looked up at his father. The chain of the General's watch was still hanging from his belt loop and Ed could just make out the shape of the watch hidden in his pocket. _So then whose…? _Ed almost smacked himself when he realized. "It's mine."

"Of course it's yours."

"Cool! So does this mean I'm a State Alchemist again?"

Roy's breath caught and it was clear that he had not expected that question. His eyes hardened and, when he spoke, his voice was firm. "No. Officially that watch belonged to Edward Elric. You are Edward Mustang. I'm giving this to you now only as a memento. You are not to use it."

Ed didn't argue. They'd been through that last night; he was Edward Maes Mustang now and he was okay with that. He met his father's gaze and nodded once, accepting, before looking back at the watch in his hand. The chain was missing and the metal was tarnished. A bit of polish would clear that up. There were also a few scratches and small dents from years of abuse in the pocket of a combat alchemist. Ed hadn't been any kinder to the watch than he was to his automail.

He turned the watch over in his hand, looking at it from all sides before pressing the button on top to open it. Nothing happened. He tried again, but the lid didn't spring open as it should. It didn't do anything. Ed frowned and turned the watch sideways, looking for the gap between the lid and the base. "It won't open." He muttered in frustration.

His father nodded. "It's been stuck like that since we found it. I'm pretty sure it's alchemically sealed."

"Huh? But who would…?" He stopped, remembering. "Oh, right… I sealed it, didn't I?" He shook his head. "Can't remember why though. Oh well." He placed the watch on the table and brought both hands together in front of him in a solid _clap_ before placing the tips of his fingers on the edge of the timepiece.

Nothing happened. There was no blue glow, no pulse of alchemical reaction. The watch remained unchanged and it was only in the confused aftermath of this that Ed realized what he'd just done. He gasped and looked up at his parents who were both staring back at him, expressions caught somewhere between surprise and shock. Ed couldn't figure out what was more alarming – that he'd tried to transmute without a circle, or that it hadn't worked.

"I… I didn't even think, I just… did it." He tried to explain, unsure if he was telling his parents or himself. "I mean I knew about it… knew that I used to, and it was like… habit or something. I just did it automatically. But it didn't work. It…" He looked at his mismatched hands – one flesh and one metal – and tried to rationalize what had just happened. _It should have worked. I used to be able to… don't really remember how but…_ "Oh… that makes sense actually. Do you have any chalk, Dad?"

His father seemed startled by the sudden question but he reached into his pocket and handed a piece to his son before he finished processing the words. He blinked as Ed started drawing a circle on the table. "What makes sense? Why didn't it work?"

"Cause, I don't remember." Ed didn't look up from his work. He paused to consider the watch for a moment and then resumed drawing the lines that would allow the transmutation to take place. "I mean, I remember being able to do it – to transmute by clapping my hands. That part feels so familiar, so right. But I don't actually remember how it works… or even how I learned it in the first place. I'm pretty sure knowledge is a big part of it and my memory is still incomplete. Without those memories I don't have the knowledge I need to perform alchemy without a transmutation circle." He finished his drawing and looked at his father. "Do you know how I did it?"

Roy drew in a deep breath and seemed to struggle with how to respond to that simple question. "I… have some idea of how you came to possess that knowledge, but no. I couldn't begin to explain how it's done or what it entails."

Ed considered that answer. It was simultaneously precise and yet, somehow, very vague. His father knew more than he was saying but Ed wasn't sure he wanted to ask what. He chewed on his lower lip before settling on a simpler question. "Were you there when I did it or did I just tell you about it afterwards?"

His father didn't answer. Roy looked at Riza and Riza stared back – a silent conversation passing between them that Ed wasn't privy to. They seemed… surprised, uncertain, as though they were somehow stumbling into dangerous ground. Finally, his mother moved, coming around the table to sit beside her son. "Just what do you remember, Ed?" she asked, resting her hand on his shoulder.

He took a deep breath and then shrugged. "Not much really. Not about that anyway. I… I'm pretty sure it had something to do with my mistake. The… whatever I did that cost me my arm and leg and cost Al… everything." He whispered the last word and felt himself torn between the desire to know everything and the fear that made him want to push it all away and never remember. It was a strange feeling.

Again, an unspoken dialogue took place between his parents before his mother spoke again. "We weren't there Ed. All we know is what we saw afterward and what we learned from you and your brother over the years. We could tell you, but our perceptions of what took place that night will never be completely accurate. I think…" she glanced at her husband. "We think it might be best if you allowed those memories to return naturally."

She didn't need to tell him that they didn't _want_ to tell him everything. He could see it written on their faces. The last thing they wanted to do was explain to him what had happened that night. They would, he knew, if he asked them. But he wouldn't. They were right. A memory like this – he couldn't afford to only have it told to him from an outsider's perspective. It was too important. He needed to remember for himself. And… he was okay if that didn't happen for awhile. It was all too new, too fresh. And things were finally alright between him and his parents. He didn't want to mess that up just yet. He wanted to have a good day and focus on the good memories. They could do that. There were plenty of happy memories just simmering on the surface waiting to be brought into the light. Today would be for those. The rest could wait for another day.

Upon coming to this decision, he looked up at his parents and smiled. "You're right. I'll remember that stuff on my own." Then he looked back at the table and the transmutation circle he'd so perfectly drawn in less than a minute. _Who needs clapping? I can still do this!_ After setting the watch in the center of the circle, he placed both hands on the edge and smiled as the alchemic energy surged through his body and into the small object. When the blue light died down, Ed lifted one hand to press the button on the watch. The lid sprung open with a cheerful _click_ to reveal a bright, white clock face.

Ed grinned up at his father, who was smiling proudly. Nothing needed to be said between them. _I wonder if Hohenhiem would've looked at me that way, if he'd stayed._ Ed looked back at the watch, frowning at his sudden thoughts before pushing them away. _Stupid. I don't care what that bastard thinks._

He picked up the watch and studied the interior. It only took a moment for him to notice the etching on the inside of the lid.

"Don't forget… ten, three, eleven." He muttered the words. "What does that mean?"

Roy leaned over his shoulder to peer at the watch. "I've never seen that before. Must be why you sealed it. That looks like a date – October 3rd, 1911. That was just days after you received your certification."

"But not _the_ day?" Ed asked.

"No, the test was on October 1st."

"Don't forget…" he read the phrase again. "Why would I want to remember a day not long after my certification? It must be important. What was I doing?"

His father shrugged. "Don't ask me. You went back to Resembool straight away after I handed you your watch. Turned up in East City with Al a few days later. I haven't a clue what you did during the interim."

Ed sighed and closed the watch with a snap. "It kinda sucks. It says 'don't forget,' but I forgot."

"It's not your fault, Ed." His mother said kindly.

"I guess not. How was I supposed to know I'd get turned into a baby?" He shrugged and stuck the watch in his pocket. "Of course _that _might be my fault. We still don't know how it happened."

"Enough." Roy groaned. "We're not here to talk about faults. Let's go through the rest of this box." He reached in and started pulling things out. "These were your personal effects, left in your dorm room at the barracks. Mostly clothes, a few notebooks…" he paused to give his son a pointed look before pulling out a pair of boots. "Elevator shoes…"

"Hey! Don't rag on the boots! I like those." He snatched them from his father.

"You only like them because they make you believe you're something that you're not – _tall_. It's not healthy to live in a fantasy world, Son."

"I'm not short! And at least I don't pretend I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread!"

"At least I don't have to eat an entire loaf of bread to grow one micrometer."

"If you boys don't stop, I'm going to have to insist you leave the house." His mother said calmly. She picked up one of the notebooks and flipped through it – not reading, just looking. "This one has your handwriting, Ed." She would know. She'd been trying to correct it for years.

Ed took the book and opened it to the first page. "Oh, hey! It's my travelogue!"

"You kept a travelogue?" his father asked, skeptically.

Ed shrugged and flipped through a few pages. "Sort of…" He looked up at his father and grinned. "They're my alchemy notes."

"Seriously?!" He snatched the book from his son's hands and flipped through it himself. "You mean I've had this sitting in my office for all these years and I didn't even realize it?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "You won't be able to read it."

"Try me! I've been cracking alchemy codes since before you were in diapers – both times!"

"And that just goes to show how old you are." His father didn't respond to the taunt. Ed sighed and reached out to pull the book back. "Seriously, Dad. It's no good. I don't even think I could read it right now."

"And why's that?"

"Because the code is based in memory. Half of it only makes sense in comparison to what I remember – people, places, events. Some of it is historical fact that can be verified through other sources but a lot of it is taken from personal experience and without my memories… the only person who _might_ have a chance at cracking this is Al since he traveled with me most of the time, but I doubt even he'd get all of it."

Roy stared at the book petulantly, as though willing it to divulge all of its secrets. "What do you plan on doing with it then?"

Ed considered the book for a moment. True, it was written in code, but its outward appearance _was_ a travelogue and it did, at the very least, contain a history of places he'd visited and people he'd met. Even if the inner details were skewed to fit the code – he could certainly use the dates and names to help verify certain things in his memory. It was even possible that reading through it would trigger certain memories to return. Ultimately, he hoped to regain enough of his memories that a through translation of the code would be possible. For now though, he'd settle for what he could get.

"I'll use it to help me with my memory." He answered his father, who nodded and gestured towards the other notebook.

"What's that one?"

Ed reached for it and started flipping through the pages but stopped almost immediately as he recognized the handwriting. "Apple pie… quiche…" his voice caught. "…stew…" he stopped reading and shut the book. He had to take several deep breaths and blink rapidly to stop the tears that were prickling behind his eyes.

"Ed? What is it?" His father's voice was soft, concerned.

Ed breathed shakily and forced himself to reply. "It's… It's Al's list. He, um… he was keeping a list of all the… things he wanted to do, foods he would eat first when… when he got his body back." He stood up suddenly and picked up both books, leaving the boots and the clothes. "I'm sorry. I have to… I can't…"

He didn't finish his sentence. He couldn't. Turning quickly, he left the kitchen.


	12. in which sparring is fun

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

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**A.N. ** It's NaNoWriMo time! I'm cheating because instead of starting something brand new, I'm just continuing this story from where I left off. I figure you guys won't mind because it means that by the end of the month, this story will have doubled in size. Hopefully, I'll reach Chapter 20 which means we'll be meeting one beloved, friendly face before the month is out (I know you've all been waiting). Updates will come as I finish each chapter so probably once every few days. Sorry for the recent delays in updating. I hope this makes up for it.

**Cover Art Challenge: **Looking for talented artists to make a wonderful cover for this story – details on profile.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

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**Chapter 12, in which sparring is fun**

Roy took his time in going after his son. Ed was understandably distraught at discovering the contents of the last notebook – the blatant reminder of the promise he'd failed to keep. The General thought back to the discussion of the previous night and his decision to allow Ed to look through the case files. It was such a little thing and Roy had serious doubts that the boy would find something when no one else had and so much time had passed. But he couldn't bring himself to deny his son that chance – that hope. Besides, if Al _was_ still out there somewhere, Ed would be the one to find him. That boy was nothing if not determined.

Still, it couldn't be easy for him to go through this now – to regain memories of a time long past and to feel that pain so fresh and new and unfamiliar to the heart of a child who'd known so little pain in his twelve years. He wasn't prepared for this. Roy couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like for his son. He was almost glad that Ed didn't remember the night he lost his limbs. He wished, more than anything, that he could just make it go away.

He had wanted to rush after the boy immediately but experience (and his good wife) held him back. Ed had always been an independent child, choosing to work through problems on his own before asking for help. Roy had been grateful that the boy _did_ know how to ask for help when things got too difficult for him to handle, and he and Riza had always been there to provide the support Ed needed without smothering him. Now, with the Fullmetal temperament returning, Ed was even more likely to try to handle things on his own – especially personal things. His relationship with his brother was certainly personal and whatever pain and sorrow he felt connected to Alponse's absence was not something he was likely to share with anyone. No one – not even his parents – could truly commiserate with what Ed was feeling right now. Roy knew that and so he let his son be for now.

He busied himself with unpacking – something he hadn't gotten around to the night before – and let his thoughts drift through the revelations of the past twenty-four hours. It took him less than an hour to finish putting his things away and to set his dirty laundry aside for washing. He'd do that later. He figured Ed had had long enough to work through his emotions and was likely ready to move on with the day – if he wasn't, Roy was prepared to remind him to keep moving forward. They still had a lot to talk about and it didn't make sense to linger on sorrows when they still had fifteen years worth of memories to sort through.

Ed wasn't in his room though Roy noted that the papers from the night before had been picked up and neatly stacked on the desk. The red cloak had also been left in the room and was hung neatly on the back of the desk chair. Roy couldn't help but smile at the sight. That stupid, loud cloak had driven him crazy in the past as it drew so much attention and notably marked Fullmetal's refusal to wear a uniform. Now the cloak stood as a reminder of times long past and hope for the future because, in spite of everything and against all odds, Ed was still Ed and Roy wouldn't have him be any other way.

The search for his son led Roy back to the kitchen and a quick look out the rear window verified that Ed was back to exercising, as he had been the night before, and he looked like he'd been at it for a while. Roy frowned, surprised that the boy would return to this after their discussion last night. Hadn't he made it clear that the boy _couldn't _join the military at his age? Roy shook his head and tried to push back his temper. Things were finally back to normal between them – it wouldn't do to mess it up now.

Instead of rushing out to stop his son and berate him for continuing his pointless exercise, Roy took his time, filling a pitcher with water and fetching two glasses from the cabinet. He carried these out onto the back porch, mentally preparing himself to approach the situation calmly and with an open mind. Surely Ed had other reasons for this. They had a lot to talk about and several issues to resolve from the previous night. But it needed to be a two-way conversation or else they were bound to end up fighting again.

Roy set the glasses down on the low wall boarding the porch and then leaned against it himself. He took a few moments to watch his son. Ed wasn't moving very fast – certainly not as fast as he'd moved in years past, flying about like a whirling dervish – rather, his movements were careful and precise. The boy was concentrating hard as he moved through the forms and Roy caught him correcting his own position several times. It was clear that Ed knew what he was doing, at least in his mind. His body, still uncoordinated from years of limited physical activity and the recent addition of automail, was struggling to keep up. But Ed wasn't letting that stop him. He repeated the same pattern over and over again; perfecting each motion with such focus and control that Roy couldn't help but feel impressed and proud. Regardless of what reasons Ed had for doing this, he was _good_.

It startled Roy to realize that the boy had _always_ been this good. He'd seen Fullmetal fight more times than he could remember. He knew that the boy and his brother had spent time every day sparring on the training grounds. After the first couple of times, the then-Colonel had grown bored of the flashy display and ignored it. The boys could spin and duck and jump and dodge faster than anyone he knew but their style of street-fighting had gone against all of the military regulation combat forms he'd learned in the academy. It had seemed so showy at the time and Roy had failed to recognize just how much effort the boys had put into learning to fight that way.

Watching his son now, he recognized the movements from years before – slowed down now for the sake of precision – and he realized just how much he'd taken Fullmetal's skills for granted back then. He hadn't just picked up these moves off the street. He'd learned them – been taught, possibly by a master martial artist. It dawned on Roy, then, just how little he knew of Fullmetal's past… of his son's past.

As he watched, Ed gradually increased his speed. He didn't move up to the fast pace Roy knew he'd one day be capable of and it was clear that he was still minding the sensitivity of his automail ports, but he did move faster than he had when he started. Having worked through each motion to perfect it, he could now run the whole routine, start to finish, without pausing. He did just that, finishing with a final flourish and a grin that surprised Roy out of his musings.

Ed met his eyes suddenly and his grin softened into a gentle smile that was all Ed Mustang – certainly not a look Fullmetal had ever worn. Roy stood up straighter and gestured to the pitcher before pouring both glasses. Ed nodded and wiped his brow on the sleeve of his shirt before coming over. It wasn't hot out – far from it actually – but the workout had clearly tired the boy and he looked like he could use a break.

"Thanks." Ed said, taking a glass from his father and downing it quickly. He poured himself another but just sipped this one as he sat on the stoop. Lilyate, who'd been napping next to the porch, bounded up to sit happily next to her master. "Hey, girl." Ed said, petting her.

Roy took a swig from his own glass before sitting beside the boy. "How're you feeling?" he asked. He didn't need to be more precise. Ed knew he was referring to earlier. If Ed wanted to talk about it, the offer to listen was on the table. If not, he'd change the subject. Roy wasn't going to push too hard about anything concerning Al right now.

Ed shrugged. "Better. This helps." He nodded out to the back yard.

"What does?" Roy frowned, unsure of his meaning.

"Working out. It helps me… focus; makes it easier."

Roy nodded and internally breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he'd jumped to conclusions. Still, he needed to verify that and make sure they were on the same page about some things. "Ah, I was wondering about that."

"About what? Working out?" Ed absently picked up a stick and twirled it around a few times before offering it to Lilyate. The dog sniffed at it before taking it in her mouth and chewing happily.

Roy took a deep breath and decided to just throw it out there and see how the boy responded. "Yes. You said yesterday that you were exercising to prepare for the State Alchemy Exam."

Ed glanced up and then took the stick back from Lilyate. He threw it across the yard for her to fetch before answering casually. "Well, yeah. That's part of it."

_Damn_. Roy shut his eyes. He didn't want to start another fight but this had to be dealt with and sooner was better than later. "Son. Look at me." The boy looked up, seemingly startled by his father's serious tone. Roy met his son's eyes evenly and spoke calmly. "I'm not letting you take the exam, Ed."

Ed's eyes widened and then narrowed. "What? But –"

Roy held up a hand to cut him off. "Just hear me out, alright?" Ed scowled as though preparing himself for a fight, but shut his mouth and nodded. Roy sighed and took a moment to formulate his thoughts before speaking. "This isn't about whether or not you _can_ pass the exam. I _know_ you can pass it. You've done it before and I dare say they'd even bypass the statute and let you in a second time if they knew who you were. But that's just the point, Ed. They _don't_ know who you are. Your mother and I have worked hard to keep you a secret from anyone who might try to hurt you."

"Who would –" Ed started but Roy answered before he could finish the question.

"The homunculi, for one. They're still out there – some of them anyway. They haven't shown up in awhile so we don't know where they are. Maybe they've moved on but we don't know that for sure. It's not a risk I'm willing to take, not with your life. We know that they wanted you, Ed – you and Alphonse, for… whatever they were planning. We're fairly certain that your disappearance put their plans on hold and quite frankly, I'd like to keep it that way. But it's not just them. There are others in the military – higher ups who wouldn't hesitate to use you for their own purposes. If they realize who you are – and no doubt they will once they see you in action – if they make that improbable leap in logic and conclude that you _are_ the Fullmetal Alchemist, that somehow you reverted in age and have been living with me this whole time, it could put us all in jeopardy. They'll want to study you, to figure out how this happened. They may even try to use you in experiments to discover the secret to immortality. And there's only so much I could do to protect you. Once you join the military, you'll be considered a liberated minor and my rights as your father will be null and void. I can't _protect_ you there, Ed. Even if they didn't figure out who you are, you'd still be in danger. How many times did you end up in the hospital the last time you were a State Alchemist?"

Ed blinked, startled by the question. He'd been listening intently, caught up in imagining the danger his father was laying out for him. Now he struggled to re-enter the present and then to delve into the past for some obscure number that was beyond his recollection. He frowned and stared at the ground, embarrassed. "I… I don't remember."

Roy raked his fingers through his hair in frustration at his own rant. He hadn't intended to go off like that. And then to ask the boy a question that he obviously wouldn't have the answer to while he was still struggling to regain his memories – Roy rebuked himself silently and then apologized. "Sorry. I know you don't remember. It's… forty-seven." Ed head shot up and his eyes grew wide, shocked by the number. Roy just nodded and grimaced. "Forty-seven times in four years. I know. I had to deal with the paperwork to cover your hospital bills."

Ed snorted and rolled his eyes. "Nice to know where your priorities lie, Colonel."

His father groaned and leaned back on one hand and tilting his face to the cloud covered sky. He used his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Be serious, Ed… I think my heart stopped every time I got a call letting me know you'd been admitted."

The boy frowned, admonished, and asked quietly, "Was it bad?"

Roy just sighed and shook his head. "Mostly it was just bad cuts and bruises… a few broken bones… several concussions. You're automail took more of a beating than you did. I had to cover those bills too. Winry enjoyed that… Oh, and you got sick a few times. You tried to push through it on your own till Al finally carted you into the emergency room."

"I got shot once, too. Didn't I?" Ed asked suddenly, a contemplative expression on his face as though he was trying to remember.

Roy's looked down at his son, his own eyes wide at the question. "No. You were never shot." He insisted. The boy couldn't have been. Surely he'd know if… "No. A few close calls, maybe. You certainly got caught in a few fire fights. But you were never hit. I read all of the hospital reports."

But Ed just nodded slowly, staring blankly out into the yard, but not seeing. He was focused inward now, on a memory he couldn't quite grasp. "Yes… I was… I don't remember when, but…" He lifted his hand and placed it on his chest, just to the right of where his heart should be. "It was… here."

Roy had to force himself to breathe. It wasn't true. Ed hadn't been shot. He shook his head. "No. That never happened. You're confused, Ed. You're memories aren't clear."

Ed frowned and for a moment it looked like he was going to concede. But then he bit his lip and shook his head. "No. It happened. I'm sure of it. I…" He breathed heavily, gulped, and shut his eyes as though in pain. "I remember. I think it… What if it happened just before… before I changed?"

He was shaking now and Roy leaned over to brace his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Ed, are you alright?"

Ed gulped and nodded. "Yeah. I just… it's really intense. It was… I think… I think I was dying… That's the last thing I remember. I… if I can push past that, m-maybe I can r-remember what happened to me and how I… how…"

"Stop. Stop, Ed." Roy pulled his son close and held him against his chest. "Stop trying to remember. Don't force it." _Don't make me hear it_. Roy closed his eyes but he couldn't block out the images that flew through his mind – a snowy day, an empty warehouse, blood… so much blood, spatter pattern and drainage consistent with a gunshot wound, no bullet, no body, but in the center of it all, a squalling infant, chilled and hungry. He'd seen it then but he hadn't put the pieces together. The baby, Ed, hadn't been injured. There were no scars on his body – only the obvious missing limbs. He'd thought certainly it had been someone else. Someone else had been shot – not the boy, not his _son_.

But it was him… his words had confirmed that much and now… now he was reliving it – the pain, the terror of dying, alone, in an empty warehouse without anyone there to comfort him, to give him hope. Roy didn't want to think of his son that way. He couldn't bare it. Ed didn't deserve to feel that kind of pain, either in reality or in memory, but his father could do nothing to force it away. He could only hold his boy until the memory, and the fear and pain that came with it, subsided.

Ed didn't cry, and after several moments his body stopped shaking. He breathed heavily and buried his face in his father's chest. Roy took comfort in the real, living presence of his son, here in his arms.

Finally, Ed pulled away and looked up with a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, Dad. I… that was really… scary. I died. But… I'm here now. I'm alive. That's what matters, right?"

Roy nodded and hugged his son one more time before letting him go. Lilyate decided it was her turn to comfort her because the pup crawled up on the stoop and shoved her head onto Ed's lap. "I'm okay, Lily." The boy whispered.

After that earthshaking revelation, Roy was tempted to change the subject all together. He was craving something light hearted. But he needed to make sure he got his point across. It was important, especially now, in light of this, that Ed realize how dangerous the life of a State Alchemist was. The military was no place for children, regardless of skill. He opened his mouth to delve back into the fray, but his son beat him to it.

"I still want to become a State Alchemist, Dad." Ed didn't look up from where he was petting his dog. His voice was firm, strong, determined, and that stalled any argument Roy was prepared to make. It stalled him long enough for Ed to continue. "Maybe not now. I'll wait, till I'm older. What you said about the homunculi and the higher ups makes sense. And I know it's dangerous, but… I've wanted to be a State Alchemist since I was five years old. You're a State Alchemist and Mom's in the military and all of the people I've grown up with are in the military. I guess it always just made sense that that's where I'd end up too. I know I have other options but… I think that's where I'm best suited to be. It's funny cause… I think before, when I was Fullmetal, I couldn't wait to get out of the military. I was only in it so we could get our bodies back but… we did a lot of good while we were there. We helped people… me and Al. they called me the People's Alchemist, right? Cause I followed the motto: Alchemy for the People. I know the military is still pretty corrupt and all but…" He looked up at his father and smiled. "You're trying to make a difference, right? Well, that's what I want to do too. The State Alchemy program has a lot of potential. It can be used to help people. We just have to turn it around. But to do that we have to be part of it. _I_ have to be part of it. I can't just sit on the sidelines and watch things fall apart."

Roy wasn't sure whether to feel stunned or proud at the words coming out of his son's mouth. "When did you become such an activist?"

Ed just shrugged and grinned. "I get it from my dad."

"I like to think I'm a little more subtle in my plotting."

"Pfft! You call that subtle. Everybody knows you're reaching for the top."

"Yes, well, at least now when I become Fuhrer, I'll know who to appoint as head of the newly reformed State Alchemy Program." Roy smiled and pushed himself up from the stoop. "C'mon, kiddo. New subject. I think we've had enough of this one. Let's head inside and start sorting through those memories of yours."

Ed stood as well and stretched but didn't turn to go inside. Instead, he headed back out into the yard. "Yeah, sure. Just let me finish out my workout and I'll join you."

"You're not done?"Roy asked incredulously.

"No way. That was just a warm up." The boy replied, as he started a new series of movements.

Roy blinked twice and then stepped out to stop his son. "Wait. Ed, you just said that you were going to wait on becoming a State Alchemist. You don't need to do all of this right now. You have years –"

"Da-ad," Ed's voice came out as a whine, perturbed at being interrupted. "I'm not doing it for that. I told you, that was just one of the reasons, and… really not the most important one right now."

Roy stepped back, confused. "So then… why are you doing this?"

"Because it helps." He answered simply, and then gestured to where his father was standing. "You're in my way."

Roy rolled his eyes but moved back to the porch and watched as his son resumed his forms slowly, self-correcting along the way as he had done before. "How so?" Roy asked, wondering how deep the boy's concentration really was.

Apparently Ed was capable of focusing on training and carrying on a conversation simultaneously because he answered smoothly without breaking form, "To train the mind, one must first train the body."

"I've heard that before." Roy frowned, trying to recall why those words sounded familiar.

"Probably from me or Al. It's something our alchemy teacher taught us." Ed paused to adjust his stance and then continued both his movement and his explanation. "I figured out that with all of these memories jumping around in my head, it's really hard to stay focused on much of anything. It's really confusing and there are emotions tied to just about everything. When it all piles up on me, it's overwhelming and I can't really focus on any one memory long enough to make sense of it." He twisted into a tucking jump as though evading a low attack and landed carefully on his right foot, to ease the pressure on his automail. Roy was impressed at the thought he put into compensating for his continued recovery. "When I'm training, I can put the emotions aside. My mind becomes more focused and I'm able to control the flow of memories better. It makes everything a lot easier."

Roy nodded along with the explanation. It made sense. He smirked as Ed completed another complicated form. He couldn't help but be proud of the boy, both for his intelligent approach to tackling his memories and for how far he come in increasing his strength and skill over the past month.

"Plus..." Ed paused and looked up with a smirk, catching his father's eye, before taking a two step start into a one-handed front hand spring and trying to land on one foot. He slipped at the last second though and landed on his rear in the grass. His grin didn't falter though and he barked out a laugh before finishing his sentence. "It's a lot of fun." He pushed himself back up to his feet. "Still working on that one. It'll be easier once I don't have to worry about the automail."

Roy chuckled at his son's slip-up but smiled warmly. "Nevertheless, I'm impressed. You've come a long way."

Ed shrugged in response. "Well I've got a lot of memories to work with. It's mostly just a matter of retraining my muscles. I know how to do it up here." He tapped his forehead and then drifted off with a bittersweet smile. "Wish I had a real opponent to work off of though. Al and I used to spar all the time. He was stronger – even before the armor – but I was faster. We were pretty evenly matched but I never could beat him. I…" He stopped and shook his head as though to ward off melancholy thoughts. "Nevermind. I'll get spar with him again after I find him. For now I guess I'm stuck with ghost-sparring. Unless…" his grin took on a mischievous glint and Roy wasn't sure he wanted to know what was going through his son's mind. "Hey, Colonel! How's your hand-to-hand combat?"

Roy suppressed a groan. Naturally, his boy would come up with something like that. "No, Ed. I'm not going to fight you."

"Aw, C'mon! It's just a little sparring. I'll even go easy on you."

"It's not me I'm worried about."

"Psh! You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine. I've been working on this stuff for weeks now. Time to test it out." Ed frowned when his father just waved a hand, dismissively, and turned to go back inside. "You're not chicken, are you Colonel?" he taunted. "Worried a little kid is gonna beat you?"

Roy froze and glared over his shoulder at the boy. "Are you challenging me, Fullmetal?"

"You bet I am!" Ed grinned, knowing he'd won, and took a fighting stance. "Let's go! Fullmetal versus Flame, rematch!"

"You remember that?"

"I remember beating you."

"Only after I flambéed your tail all over Eastern Command. You won by chance."

"I still won. So are we gonna do this or what? You could just concede defeat now and declare me the winner."

"Hardly." Roy turned around and stepped out into the yard, facing his son. "Alright, but no alchemy."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Well, duh. You don't have your gloves on and I'm not exactly clapping fit at the moment. It's just man to man now."

"More like man to boy." Roy scoffed but he quickly readied his stance and waited for Ed to make the first move. He didn't have to wait long. His son came at him quickly with a series of offensive strikes. Roy blocked them easily and countered with a few of his own, mindful to pull his punches and avoid the boy's automail. As the match continued, Roy found himself wishing he'd warmed up a bit first. It had been a while since he'd practiced his combat forms and while he exercised regularly and kept in shape, he still spent an excessive amount of time sitting behind a desk. He had a few advantages though. Ed still wasn't in top form and his reflexes were slow – evidence that he'd not had a chance to practice against an opponent. Roy was also taller and notably stronger. Ed may have been working out a lot but he hadn't built up that much muscle mass in such a short amount of time.

The dual continued for several minutes and Roy felt himself growing winded. _Twelve year old boys have too much energy._ He was ready to end it but wasn't about to concede defeat. Instead he went for a dirty trick. Smirking smugly, he ducked inside Ed's defense and tackled him to the ground. Ed was caught by surprise and immediately tried to regain his footing but Roy wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and held him down.

He couldn't help but smile fondly as Ed growled and struggled to get free. It had been a few years since he'd wrestled with his son and Riza didn't really appreciate their rough-housing inside the house. But Roy remembered many Saturday evenings spent tussling in the backyard. When the boy was young they would play make-believe games – Ed's wild imagination had his father struggling to keep up with the elaborate plot lines. As he grew, the silly stories and characters were dropped but the pillow fights and wrestling matches continued. It had been a while… Roy missed those days. Ed had started spending more time with his friends in recent years and was more interested in practicing alchemy with his father than messing around in the backyard. Now… now maybe they had a reason to recapture some of that lost time.

"Da-ad!" Ed whined and Roy laughed against his back as he continued to hold the boy down. Ed squirmed and wriggled but couldn't find purchase to push himself free. "This isn't sparring. You're… squishing me." The boy couldn't hide the smile in his own voice and his body shook with restrained giggles.

"Well, maybe if you weren't so small I wouldn't be able to squish you, Shrimp."

Ed growled and renewed his efforts. "Don't. Call. Me. Shrimp!" He jabbed his elbow backwards into his father's stomach and Roy rolled away with an _oof!,_ releasing the boy. Ed wasted no time in taking advantage. He spun around and planted his left hand on Roy's shoulder while aiming an automail fist directly below his chin. Had Ed been able to transmute, a familiar blade might have been scratching at Roy's throat.

"Hah! Say uncle!" Ed grinned victoriously.

Roy rolled his eyes and moved to shove the boy out of the way. "Get off me."

"Not till you say it! And take back that shrimp comment!" Ed kept his balance and stayed firmly in place.

It came down to a battle of wills – father and son, staring each other in the eye, neither blinking, neither conceding defeat… until Roy puffed out his cheeks in a goofy face and Ed snorted. They both dissolved into laughing fits and Ed rolled over to lay beside his father, staring up into the cloudy sky.

"See. I told you sparring was fun."

"I never said it wasn't."

"I won again."

"I let you win."

"Did not!"

"Did too."

"Rematch!"

"Tea."

Roy and Ed both lifted their heads at the sudden interruption to see Riza standing on the back porch. "I think both of you have had enough for today. Come in and wash up. I have tea and sandwiches ready and I believe we all have work to do."

"Yes ma'am," the boys chorused.

* * *

Sometime later, after cleaning up and indulging in tea and cucumber sandwiches, Roy found himself sandwiched on the couch between his son and his wife while Ed shuffled through his journal papers, trying to put them back in order. The boy paused, frowning in frustration, before rolling his eyes and tossing the whole stack down on the coffee table.

"Why am I bothering? We're just gonna mix them up anyway when we start going through them. It's probably a good thing that I ripped it up; makes it easier to put them in chronological order."

Riza leaned forward and picked up the first paper in the stack, considering what was written on it for a moment. "Are these all memories? This just looks like a list of facts."

"Some of it's like that." Ed nodded. "I made note of things I know that I probably… shouldn't know. Like, not top secret things or anything – well… some of it might be now that I think about it – but mostly just stuff I don't remember learning or reading about in the past twelve years. Like I don't think the Central City train schedule from 1914 was ever taught in Amestrian History class. But I took the train often enough as a State Alchemist that I had to have it memorized. Kind of a pointless thing to remember now though. It's not even the same anymore, I bet."

"Considering they've added about three different lines and changed the routes up at least seven times since then – you're probably right." Roy snatched up the next sheet and glanced at it quickly. Before he began reading though, he turned to look at his son. "You're sure you don't mind us reading this. They are your memories after all. I'm sure there's some personal stuff in here."

Ed shrugged. "It's no big deal. Most of it is pretty straight forward. I tried to leave the emotions out of what I was writing and just get to the bare bones of things. But, um… read the beginning of each one out loud and I'll let you know if there's something I don't want you to read."

"Fair enough." Roy nodded and looked at the paper in his hands. "This one says 'Al picked up another stray – not a cat this time."

"Oh, that's about that guy, uh… Ling, right? That's what I wrote." Ed confirmed, leaning to read over his father's shoulder. "Yeah, he was passed out in an alley and then we went to a restaurant and he ate a ton of food and left me to cover the bill. What a jerk. He's probably not important. Just a random memory."

"On the contrary," Roy began, picking up a pen and a blank notebook. "I believe Ling Yao was the name of the Xingese prince who aided us in capturing the Homunculus known as Gluttony. His female friend was injured during that battle. Shortly after that, you, Al, and Ling ran off to fight Gluttony on your own. I think you mentioned something about being… _swallowed_ by the monster."

"Swallowed…?" Ed asked slowly. He was looking at Roy with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. "As in… eaten? I was eaten?"

Roy bit back his retort about restating the obvious when he realized that the boy had no idea what he was talking about. "You… don't remember that do you?" Ed shook his head slowly, apparently still trying to wrap his brain around the idea of being eaten. Roy grimaced and wondered if it was a mistake to say so much – Ed was only twelve after all and despite being very well read, he'd led a rather sheltered life. Conversely, his memories of his past life were filled with pain, terror, and the sort of things usually reserved for ghost stories. It might be too much for the boy to take in all at once. "Sorry…" Roy tossed the paper down and moved to take another one.

"Wait!" Ed shook himself out of his stupor and snatched the paper before it landed on the table. "This is important! How was I swallowed? Better yet, how did I get out? How did I even survive to talk about it?"

"I don't know, Ed. I wasn't there and you didn't really get the chance to give me a full report on that one. It wasn't long after that that you –"

"Roy." Riza's laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Then she looked calmly at their son. "Ed, I think for now it might be best to focus on what you _do _remember instead of bringing up things you don't. Once we get all of these notes sorted into some sort of chronological order, we can start filling in the blanks. And hopefully you'll be able to regain those memories on your own along the way."

Riza always seemed to know the best way to approach things. Roy agreed readily and Ed pushed aside his burning curiosity to focus on the immediate task at hand. If they ran off on the thousand different tangents which might be spurred from anyone one memory, they'd never get anywhere.

"Alright then," Roy twirled his pen between his fingers and then pressed the tip to a blank page in his notebook and began to write. "Met Ling in… do you remember where you were?"

"Um… some place with lots of automail. Winry was there I think so… near Resembool?"

"Rush Valley."Riza supplied. "Winry was apprenticed there for several years and you visited her a few times for maintenance."

"Right, so… Met Ling in Rush Valley and that would be… Summer, 1914 if I remember correctly. Those Xingese folks didn't turn up until then. What's next?"

And so they began sorting through everything Ed had remembered up until that point. Roy kept careful notes – assigning dates to events so that they could put together a timeline and give Ed a visual cue for what he'd remembered and what was still missing. There were some memories that Roy and Riza couldn't verify one way or the other – certain events during Ed and Al's travels which they'd kept to themselves and also anything from before they met, Ed's childhood in Resembool. These last were simply listed under the heading 'Resembool' and Ed said he'd go back and work through those on his own once he found Al.

"You could always ask Winry to help you." Roy mentioned casually as he jotted down another 'Resembool memory.'

"Winry?" Ed paused in re-reading another page from his journal. It took him a moment to comprehend what his father was saying. He gasped suddenly and sat up straight, his eyes wide. "Shit!"

"Language." Roy and Riza reprimanded together.

"Sorry." Ed apologized absently but his mind was clearly somewhere else because he was staring off at a blank spot on the wall above the fireplace.

"What's wrong?" Roy asked, concerned.

A sudden blush stole over Ed's cheeks as he sunk back down in his seat and buried himself back in the papers. "N-nothing! Nothing's wrong. I just… no, I don't think I'll ask Winry. She's probably way too busy to worry about stuff like this."

Roy smirked as he realized what was going on but before he could say anything, Riza spoke up.

"She's your friend, Ed. And she's really missed you over the past twelve years. You talk to her. Let her know you've regained your memories. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear from you."

Ed shook his head but didn't look up. "No. No, that's a bad – that's a very bad idea."

"Why – ?"

"Don't you see Riza?" Roy asked, too casually. He paused for effect and his wife eyed him warily. "Fullmetal's worried about seeing his girlfriend again after all this time."

Ed's responding sputter was classic and Roy had a hard time containing his laughter as the boy's face blossomed into tomato red. "Sh-she's not my _girlfriend_! We were just friends! We grew up together! And she's gonna be furious with me for forgetting her. My head hurts just imagining how many times she's gonna hit me with her spanner." Ed groaned and held his head between his hands as though in pain.

"You could always bring her flowers. Flowers are always a good way to deter an angry girlfriend."

"I already told you! She's not –"

"Roy, stop teasing your son."

"Yeah, _Dad_. Stop teasing your son."

Roy held up his hands in defeat. He wouldn't be able to handle both of them against him. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry." He tussled his Ed's hair apologetically but the boy just batted his hand away and glared. Roy waited silently with a repentant look until Ed finally rolled his eyes and offered a sideways smirk, letting his father know that all was forgiven.

Roy chuckled and leaned back against the couch. "Besides, I think she might be too old for you now." He didn't stop the pillow that flew at his face in response.


	13. in which friends are important

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** As I reveal a little bit more about what's been going on in the rest of the world for the past twelve years, please note: The events that initially follow Ed and Al's disappearance are as close to cannon as I can keep them asiding the necessary changes brought about by the Elric's absence. For example – Sloth did show up in Briggs, but Ed and Al obviously weren't there to help. I'm pretty sure General Armstrong still would've managed with that though and Briggs isn't really going to come into this story much (at least it's not currently in the plan). As more time passes, however, the story will diverge further and further from canon. Let's face it, Ed and Al were kind of essential to a lot of what ended up happening. Also, there are certain changes (having nothing to do with Ed and Al) which I've made simply for the sake of plot and well… just because I don't really want to have to deal with certain characters. One of those changes is going to come up in this chapter and I don't really want a billion people saying "That's not how it happened!" I know it didn't happen that way in the canon. But for the sake of this story – it did. I thus invoke those all-powerful, authorial words, "Because I said so!"

**Cover Art Challenge: **Looking for talented artists to make a wonderful cover for this story – details on profile.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 13, in which friends are important**

Mrs. Ronnel was a tall woman with broad shoulders, a perpetually frowning face, dark hair, and a large mole on her upper chest that never seemed to be covered by the collar of her dress. Inevitably this singular spot drew Ed's eyes every time he happened to look up from his notes. As he averted his eyes for the tenth time in less than half an hour, he wondered again why he had let his parents talk him in to continuing his basic education.

The conversation had taken place the day before when his mother interrupted their escapade through the lost memories of Edward Elric, to inform him that he had several assignments that were past due and she hoped he would take the time to complete them before the weekend ended.

"I'm… not going to school anymore." Ed had replied slowly, carefully, not particularly wanting to incur his mother's wrath but still adamant about the decision he'd made a few days prior. Really, considering what they now knew, he didn't see how they could insist that he go back to school. He hadn't gone to school before after all – when he was Fullmetal, that is. He hadn't had time for school, quite frankly, what with searching for the Philosopher's stone and all of the other missions the Colonel sent him on. He hoped that they would understand that he now had more important things to do than sit in classrooms all day and listen to lectures when he could find out anything he needed to know by reading one of the thousands of books at the library.

But his hopes were dashed before he ever finished speaking because his father put down the journal page he was reading and suddenly Ed was facing down the incredulous stares of _both_ his parents. "I – I told you this on Friday." He hesitantly defended himself, although he was loath to bring up the horrendous argument he'd had with his father just two days prior.

"You said a lot of things on Friday." His father began slowly. His face was a blank mask again – that horrible mask that refused to give Ed a clue what the older man was thinking. "You didn't mean half of what you said. I didn't think you were serious about _this_."

Ed tried to figure out how best to approach this but his father gave nothing away and, turning to his mother for help, he found that her face was just as unreadable. He was walking on thin ice and he needed to be careful. _I don't _want_ to fight with them._ He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment and fiddled nervously with a bolt on his automail. "Yeah, well… I am. I… just don't see the point in going to school anymore. I mean, I never went to school before. Al and I dropped out before I turned ten. Winry didn't stay in much longer than that either. She started studying automail and I became a State Alchemist. Isn't it better to focus on a trade than to continue studying liberal arts? If you know what you want to do…" He trailed off feeling that his words were going to start going in circles if he kept talking. Babbling like an idiot wouldn't help his cause.

His parents looked at each other for several moments, having some sort of silent conversation that he wasn't privy to. He didn't even know how they managed to communicate like that since their facial expressions never seemed to change. As if by some unspoken cue, they turned back to him simultaneously and his father spoke in an even voice. "Things have changed a lot in the past decade Ed. A lot of new laws have come into effect – child labor laws, specifically, and they don't just apply to the State Alchemy Program. There are also truancy laws – the state wants children to go to school. Those who opt out by choosing to pursue a trade through apprenticeship are required to apply through the State and their mentors must adhere to strict rules and regulations. For this reason, most mentors won't even consider taking on an apprentice under the age of sixteen. Even in rural towns it's becoming _normal_ for children to stay in school till then, at least. Here in the city, continued education is the expectation whether it be through state funded schools or private academies. Central Academy is one of the best and they provide the broadest range of studies for the schools in the area."

"They don't teach alchemy." Ed pointed out.

"Nobody teaches alchemy, Son. Alchemists are still an extreme minority in this country – in any country – despite all of our advances in the field. I imagine it'll remain a trade passed down solely through apprenticeship for some time yet. And most people don't begin seriously studying alchemy until later in life. It requires too much dedication and it can be dangerous. You – and your brother – are obvious exceptions to this. Even I started rather young – though not as young as you did but I suppose being a genius helped you out there."

Ed rolled his eyes. "I'm not a genius."

His father stared at him skeptically. "You know they have this new test that is supposed to determine a person's I.Q. How about you take it and then try to tell me you're not a genius."

"Just because I know how to use my brain and I _happen_ to have a gift for alchemy, does not make me a genius."

"You don't just have a _gift_ for alchemy, Ed. You drew your first transmutation circle when you were three."

"Almost four! Besides, I was probably just channeling skills from my past or something. Just because I didn't remember anything until now, doesn't mean I wasn't subconsciously doing things I incepted from Edward Elric." As weird as it was to refer to himself in the third person, it had made things easier during their discussion and he used it now to make his point. He tapped the side of his head. "I have fifteen years of excess knowledge backlogged somewhere in my brain. Some of it was bound to spill out and make me seem like a prodigy to all of you _normal_ people."

"And how old was Edward Elric when he started doing alchemy?" his father asked in a patronizing tone.

"I… I don't remember." Except he did – not that they knew that. Plausible deniability works right? They couldn't _prove_ he remembered. But… his dad had that knowing look on his face – the one that said _I know that you know_. Ed looked away with a huff and scowled. "Five." He muttered out of the side of his mouth.

The old man just grinned victoriously. "You see? You were a genius then and you're a genius now."

"If I'm such a genius, why do you keep insisting that I stay in school? I clearly don't need it!" _Hah! Take that one, Dad. Turned it right around in your face, didn't I? _

"Of course you don't."

"What?" Ed blinked. He hadn't expected his father to agree with him so readily.

"Ed." His dad turned to face him and placed his hands on Ed's shoulders. The weight was comfortable, familiar, and Ed found himself relaxing into the touch even as he tried to stay strong for the sake of his argument. "Ed, you're smart. You've _always_ been smart. I knew it before and I know it now. You're right. You don't need school. You are more than capable of learning everything you need to know on your own. But school – especially a school like Central Academy – is about more than learning. It's about experience: social experience, real world experience… let's face it Ed, you grew up in a very strange environment the first time around. Your closest 'peers' were a ragtag group of soldiers and the only _kids_ you knew were your automail mechanic and your brother who was trapped in a suit of armor. All three of you were forced to grow up too soon, too fast. We don't want that for you this time, Ed. We _want_ you to grow up in a safe environment and enjoy all of the experiences a boy your age should enjoy."

Suddenly his mother leaned over the back of the couch and added her hand, on top of his father's, on his left shoulder. "You have friends at school, Ed. And you used to enjoy learning so much. All of this," she gestured to the journal pages on the table. "is important. We know that. And we want to help you regain your memories and find what you have lost. But we don't want you to get so caught up in the past that you forget about everything you have right now."

It was her words, more than anything else, that finally convince Ed to keep going to school. He looked down at his hands and then up at his parents and offered a sad smile in apology. "I don't… I don't wanna forget about it either. You're right. What I have right now is important too. You both have given me so much… and you didn't have to. It's still kind of weird to think about it. Before, when I was Fullmetal… I would have laughed if anyone suggested that the three of us could be a family. That or... chewed them out. Yeah, probably that. But we are a family and you guys did that for me. You didn't have to, but you did. I want to remember my past… but I don't want to lose what I have now in the process."

"It's not just us, Ed." His father said, smiling fondly. "You have a lot of people who care about you – your uncles, Aunt Gracia and Elicia, Kale, Bri, your other friends, your teachers. They all want you to succeed and be happy. And they want to be a part of your life. Yes, you could drop out of school and still maintain some of those relationships but it would be a lot harder. For one thing, you'd have to find an apprenticeship because it wouldn't be possible to convince the State we were homeschooling when both your mother and I work full time. You'd probably have to move out of the city to find someone to teach you and… that would mean leaving all of this behind. Personally… I'm not really sure I'm ready to let you go. You can tease me all you want about going soft. You're my son. I'm not ready for you to grow up just yet."

And that was that. The next thing Ed knew, he was plowing through a few weeks worth of past due assignments, eating supper, getting in one last workout, and going to bed. And it all led up to him staring at that stupid mole on Mrs. Ronnel's chest.

He was _trying_ to pay attention. Really. But the subject matter was so boring. _Who _cares_ about the international trade agreement between Amestris and Xing! Who _cares _about the freaking rice shortage caused by the Xingese civil war and international disputes concerning the Bradley assassination… Wait! What?_

It wasn't breaking news. It wasn't even anything he hadn't heard before. He'd memorized the list of Amestrian rulers back in grade school. He _knew _that Fuhrer Bradley had been assassinated. But suddenly that bit of grade school trivia didn't make any sense. An important detail flitted to the forefront of his mind – something he'd forgotten. It wasn't accompanied by any particular memory or vision. It was just a thought. But as surely as he had known he wasEdward Elric, once he allowed the thought to cross his mind, he knew that this new fact was the truth as well. It was an insane and frightening fact, but a fact nonetheless. And it threw everything he thought he knew about Amestrian history into a world of grey.

_Bradley was a homunculus! He couldn't have been assassinated! Homunculi aren't exactly easy to kill! _He knew that last bit as well – although he would have to ask his dad as to why exactly that was. He couldn't remember what it was that made homunculi so freaking powerful and damn near impossible to kill. But he did remember fighting them – Greed, Gluttony, Envy – and he knew that no mere sniper would be able to pull off the assassination of a monster like Bradley.

His hand was in the air before he realized he'd decided to ask a question. Mrs. Ronnel paused in her lecture and looked at him with an expression that was something like surprise but really only made her look like she'd smelled something foul. Most of the class turned to look at him as well and Kale, sitting next to him, stared with his mouth hanging open. Ed didn't understand what was so shocking – it wasn't the first time he'd raised his hand in class.

Okay… so it had been awhile. But that wasn't his fault. He'd been preoccupied. Heck, he was still preoccupied – hence why he was interrupting Mrs. Ronnel's riveting monologue about the price of rice in Xing.

"Yes, Edward?"

Ed bit his cheek to keep himself from correcting her. Only his mother ever called him Edward. Pushing aside his annoyance at teachers who refuse to use nicknames, he plowed ahead with his question. "How was Fuhrer Bradley assassinated?"

The teacher didn't reply immediately. She considered his question with a slight sneer before nodding. "I suppose your question isn't too far off topic. The exact events leading up to the Fuhrer's murder are relatively unknown. However, we do know that his home was infiltrated by a single assassin who engaged the Fuhrer in fierce combat. Bradley died nobly defending his wife – thank goodness his young son was not present to witness the murder. They say that his last words were a proclamation of love and deep devotion for his beloved Amestris." Ed could have sworn he saw a tear glistening in Ronnel's eye by the end of her speech and he resisted the urge to gag at the blatant display of hero worship for a man who was anything but. Whatever Bradley's last words were, they certainly weren't whatever plushy, patriotic propaganda the newspapers had decided to run.

" Ahem," Mrs. Ronnel cleared her throat loudly and brushed the back of her hand across her eyes before continuing. "As I was saying, the Bradley assassination led to a long series of international and domestic disputes which greatly impacted Amestris'… Yes, Edward?" Her voice took on a harder edge at this second interruption and her eyes narrowed as Ed lowered his hand and calmly returned her gaze.

"Did they ever catch the assassin?"

"No, they did not. Now, imports and exports are… what is it now, Edward?"

Ed ignored the elbow in his side and the incredulous look that Kale gave him. "Who was he?"

"The identity of the assassin was never determined although eyewitness reports claim that he was of Xingese origin which is _why_ tensions between Amestris and Xing have increased greatly since then. Now, if you please, Edward, I would like to continue our class by staying _on_ topic and reserving these tangents for a later date." Mrs. Ronnel replied quickly and succinctly before moving immediately back into her sermon on trade and gross national product.

Ed tuned out her words and put pen to paper, quickly writing down these new clues and trying to sort out what was missing.

_Xingese origin – why would someone from Xing want to kill the Fuhrer? Dad said Bradley hurt Ling's friend. That would give him motive – but Ling wouldn't have been able to kill a homunculus on his own. What can kill a homunculus? They don't die by normal means and they have weird super powers – Envy's shape-shifting, Greed's shield, Gluttony's… stomach apparently... What was Bradley's power? Why was someone able to beat him?_

"What are you doing?" Ed almost jumped at the hissing voice in his ear and he shot a glare towards Kale who was leaning over and looking at Ed with one eyebrow lifted, seemingly perplexed.

"Taking notes." Ed hissed back. "Be quiet."

"Those don't look like lecture notes." Kale countered. "And what was up with all the weird questions? Who cares about how Bradley was assassinated?"

"I do. And it's more interesting than trade agreements, anyway. Now stop talking before we get caught."

Kale rolled his eyes but only glanced up at the teacher, who had yet to notice anything beyond her blackboard, and lowered his voice a bit more before continuing. "You've been acting really weird lately, Ed. First you don't participate in class _at all_ and now you're asking a whole bunch of random questions. You're never around anymore. Even during lunch you disappear and Bri and I can't find you outside of class. Then there was that fight you started with Les –"

"Kale, stop." Ed whispered harshly. Then he sighed and pulled the fingers of his left hand through his bangs. He'd figured it was only a matter of time before his two best friends decided to call him out on his recent behavior and he knew that he was going to need to talk to them soon. _And tell them what, exactly? It's not like I can just waltz up to them and say 'Hey, guys! Guess what! I just found out I'm actually the Fullmetal Alchemist and I've got all of these memories of my past life to prove it.' Yeah, that'll go over well. _He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and glanced at his friend who was still watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer. "This isn't exactly a good time, Kale." He nodded to the front of the room to make his point. Any second now, the teacher was going to catch them talking.

"Yeah, well, when is a good time? We can't catch you between class and after school you always dash home right away."

"I've been grounded, Kale. What do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to talk to your _friends_ once in a while and stop leaving us in the dark about whatever the heck it is you've got going on right now. We're worried about you."

"Well you don't need to worry about me. I'm fine! I –"

"Edward Mustang! If you continue to interrupt my class then you will be asked to leave. This is your last warning."

Ed ducked his head, thoroughly chastised and embarrassed by Mrs. Ronnel's loud censure, but the moment she averted her gaze he shot a glare towards his friend for getting him in trouble. Kale had the good grace to wince and look apologetic.

* * *

Ed remained pre-occupied with the Bradley assassination for the remainder of the day. Despite Kale's protests, he, once again, disappeared during their lunch hour – after devouring his sandwich in under a minute – to hole up in the library and continue research on the murdered Fuhrer. He was similarly distracted in his other classes and Bri had also commented on it. During their final class of the day, Ed looked up to see his two best friends whispering to one another and casting furtive glances in his direction. He got the distinct feeling that they were going to try and ambush him after school but he pushed the intuition aside to focus on his notes and wracking his memories for any bit of information that might help him puzzle out this problem. His father was picking him up today, which would waylay whatever plans Bri and Kale had for him, and also give him the opportunity to ask about Bradley. But he wanted to figure out as much as he could on his own before then.

_It's gotta come back to Ling, somehow. Or… maybe that little girl with the cat. She could do that weird Xingese alchemy – maybe that was powerful enough to take out a homunculus. No… everything I've read refers to the assassin as "he" and besides, it would definitely have been a point of interest worthy of publication if a little girl _had_ managed to kill the Fuhrer. So, Ling then… except I really don't think Ling could have done that. _

_Ah, who am I kidding? I hardly even remember the guy. Other than the day I met him in Rush Valley and what Dad said about him… I don't know anything at all. For all I know, he could be a super powered zombie ninja who eat homunculi for breakfast. No, wait… he eats regular food – and makes me pay for it._

He looked up from his musings and spotted Kale and Bri again. They'd finished their plotting and were now, diligently paying attention to the lecture and taking notes. He sighed. Kale had been right to chew him out earlier – even if he hadn't had the best timing. Ed felt guilty for shutting them out the way he had been lately. The three of them had been friends since primary school. Neither of them had cared the slightest bit that he was missing two of his limbs or that he couldn't run around with the rest of the class during recreation period. They had chosen, of their own free will, to stick by his side and support him. He'd always tried to return the favor in whatever little ways he could. When Bri's grandfather died and she was sad, Ed had been the one to cheer her up. When Kale broke his ankle and wasn't allowed to play sports, Ed introduced him to the wonders of reading science books and the boy fell in love with machines.

The three friends had been inseparable for years… until now. Now Ed's returning past was driving a wedge between them. And he couldn't tell them what was going on. They wouldn't believe him if he did. But he didn't want to lose them.

_Mom was right about that – as important as discovering my past is, I don't want to lose what I have now. I have my family, but I also have friends. I… I never had friends before. I had Al and Winry, but they were family – even if Winry wasn't blood, she was still family. Friends are something different than family but they're still important. I never had that before. Now I do… I don't want to lose it._

But Ed didn't know how to fix things between them now. He couldn't tell them the truth… but would he be able to continue his friendship with them even while living a lie?

With a resigned sigh, he put those thoughts aside. He needed to focus on one thing at a time and right now that meant figuring out the connection between Bradley and Ling. Once he had that settled, his mind would be free to think about his friends.

"_Well, that's not a nice way to treat your friend."_

The voice flitted through his mind with a distant sort of clarity. It was a memory – Ed had experienced enough by now to recognize them right away.

_Slanted, black eyes; a broad, goofy smile; legs crossed and hands tucked into brightly colored sleeves._

"_Whoever said we were friends!?"_

His own voice startled him as it often did in his memories. He shook it off though and waited or the memory to continue. It did… sort of, but not consecutively. His mind was bombarded by flashes, brief images and impressions – scenes of himself fighting side-by-side with Ling in a darkened place, against a monstrous creature.

_Envy, _his mind supplied, even as another part of his brain argued that Envy wasn't so big.

A confident grin shared between comrades; a disgusting meal of boiled boot to stave off hunger; a victorious fist bump…

"_Whoever said we were friends!?"_

Ed smiled wryly as his own voice re-echoed through his mind. _I said that then but… we really were friends, weren't we? Maybe not at first, but by the end… so I did have a friend after all._ It was a comforting realization – a reminder that he hadn't been alone, even in the darkest of times. _But…_ the smile slipped off his face. _What happened to him? Where is Ling now? Dad didn't mention him beyond the whole swallowed thing. So where did Ling go after I disappeared? Wouldn't he have looked for me? That's what friends do. They don't just forget about each other… Like I forgot about him. _

Ed bit down on his cheek in frustration. _ I guess that's someone else I need to track down once I get all of my memories back. I hate not knowing. I hate this feeling that I somehow let him down… like I let Al down. _

"Ed."

He looked up, startled to see Bri and Kale standing over him and the rest of the class gathering their things and filtering out of the room.

"Class is over," Bri informed him. "It's time to go home."

"Right." Ed nodded, absently and started stuffing his things back into his bag while Kale and Bri waited. He couldn't help the sad smile that stole over his face when he noticed them still standing there. He knew they were probably just waiting to pounce on him and force him to talk, but the mere fact that they were waiting was almost bittersweet in light of his own failures in the friendship arena. _That's what friends do – they wait. They don't leave anyone behind… I don't deserve friends like them._

Standing up, he shouldered his bag and forced a more natural smile on his face. "I'm ready."

Bri and Kale didn't wait very long. As soon as the trio filed out of the classroom, his friends put their plan into motion.

"We need to talk, Ed." Bri began.

"I know."

Kale plowed ahead into his part of the speech. "And we're not letting you run off this time… wait, what?"

Ed stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I know. We do need to talk. I've been acting like a real jerk lately and… I'm sorry." He trudged on ahead while his friends paused, likely shocked by his apology. A moment later, he heard their feet trotting to catch up and they fell even with him again, one on each side.

"We're not mad at you, Ed." Bri walked close enough to brush her shoulder against his own. "We're just worried. And… it hurts that you haven't been talking to us lately."

"And you've been acting so out of character, we were starting to think something really bad had happened." Kale added.

"Ed." Bri put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. She turned to face him with a worried look in her eyes. "_Did_ something happen? Your dad… is he?"

"What? No!" Ed hurried to alleviate her fear. It was justified, he supposed. His friends knew all about his father's profession and how dangerous it could be. "Dad's fine. He came home this weekend. He's actually picking me up from school today."

Bri sighed in relief and smiled happily. "I'm glad to hear that."

"But…" Kale started. Ed turned to look at his friend when he didn't continue.

"What?"

"Well… you said your dad was picking you up, but we were kinda hoping you would come with us today, to the Malt Shoppe. We could get a couple of sodas and catch up some."

Ed bit his lip. He owed his friends, he really did. But Dad was taking him to the office to start looking through the files on Al. He didn't want to waste any time getting started on the search for his brother.

"C'mon, Ed." Kale pleaded. "We haven't hung out in forever."

His friends were so hopeful – he wanted to hang out with them. He really did. But his brother came first – Al always came first. "I'm sorry, guys. I –"

Kale groaned loudly and Ed winced, feeling guilty for letting them down.

"Stop it, Kale." Bri spoke up. "Ed's father has been gone for a month. They probably have their own plans for today. You know how close they are."

Ed wasn't sure whether to feel grateful for her words or embarrassed by the fact that his close relationship with Mustang was so publicly known. _Ugh! If I didn't appreciate it so much I'd probably slug that Colonel for adopting me._

He shook of those thoughts and smiled for his friends. "Thanks, Bri." He offered, genuinely. "We do have plans. But… I would like to hang out with you guys sometime. Maybe, tomorrow?" That was good – if he made definitive plans for it now, he'd be sure to follow through. Even if something came up in his search for Al, he owed them this much.

Bri nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds perfect."

Well, at least one of his friends was on board. Ed turned to Kale, who stood in the hallway with his arms crossed and a look that said: _I'm still mad at you for ditching us, again._

"Kale?"

The taller boy rolled his eyes but finally smiled. "Yeah, sure. Tomorrow then. No more excuses."

Ed grinned. "Of course not." He turned to leave the school building. His dad was probably waiting for him by now.

"Hey, Ed?"

He looked back at Kale. "Yeah?"

His friend gave him a curious look. "You're still acting weird… but you seem better today."

Ed just smiled and waved over his shoulder. "I feel better. I had a really good weekend."

* * *

"Took you long enough. Is everything okay?"

Ed climbed into the front passenger seat of his father's car, tossing his bag in the back seat as he did so. He looked up at his dad and smiled before answering the question. "Yeah, Kale and Bri just wanted to see if I could go with them to the Malt Shoppe but I told them we had plans."

The car had only moved a few inches away from the curb when his father put on the break and turned to look at him. "Are you sure you don't want to go with them? Your mother says you haven't hung out with your friends in awhile."

Ed waved away his concerns. "Yeah, it's fine, Dad. We made plans to go tomorrow instead. I want to get started on those case files."

Rroy stared at him a moment longer before nodding and pulling the car away from the curb. They rode in silence for a few minutes, his father focused on the carline traffic and Ed staring out the window. He waved when they passed Bri and Kale, on their way home by foot.

When they turned onto the main road, Ed decided to go ahead and broach the subject that had been tormenting his thoughts for most of the day. "Hey, Dad? What do you know about the Bradley assassination?"

His father eyed him sideways before looking back at the road. "Is this a school question or a memory question?"

"Both. Sort of. It came up in school today and… well I don't actually have any memories about the assassination cause it happened after, but… I do remember one thing."

"And what was that?"

Ed lowered his voice, hesitant to say it out loud, even within the privacy of his father's car. "Fuhrer Bradley was a homunculus." He whispered.

He watched his father for a reaction. At first, there was none. Roy Mustang kept his eyes on the road, staring straight ahead. He didn't seem to be breathing though and his jaw twitched. Finally, his father nodded slowly. He said nothing though and Ed took that as his cue to continue.

"How was he assassinated then? Who did it? Who could be strong enough to kill a homunculus?"

His dad took a moment to contemplate his answer. "I killed a homunculus." He said carefully.

Ed opened his mouth in shock. A part of him couldn't believe it but… a small inkling in the back of his mind confirmed that his father's words were true. "Lust… you killed Lust – with your fire?"

"That's right."

"I don't actually remember that happening." He considered out loud. "I just know it."

"You wouldn't remember it. You weren't there. You only heard about it later."

Ed nodded, understanding. It was annoying that he couldn't just jump in and pull things from his past memory. It was like the memories had a mind of their own – only deciding to help him out when _they_ found it convenient. "Okay, so you can kill a homunculus. But you didn't kill Bradley. Mrs. Ronnel said that the assassin was from Xing."

"That's what all of the reports say." His father confirmed. "I'm going to be honest with you, Ed. I don't really know too much about the assassination itself. I wasn't there when it happened. I was actually in Resembool at the time, picking up Velcro-baby." Ed snorted at the nickname and Roy smiled before continuing. "All I know is what I read in the reports, after the fact. Yes, the assassin was of Xingese heritage, according to several eye-witness accounts. However, only Mrs. Bradley bore witness to the actual murder. Her own initial report was greatly convoluted by hysteria and distress. As such, much of it was disregarded as utter nonsense. After some time spent in therapy, Mrs. Bradley gave a secondary report in which she retracted most of her previous statements claiming she couldn't possibly have seen what she first thought she saw and that those visions were the product of her own distraught mind."

There was a note of skepticism in his father's voice that Ed picked up on immediately. "But you don't believe that." It wasn't a question.

Roy smirked at his son's quick observation. "I read both reports. The second contained little information. But in the first, I was able to see the truth behind what others cast aside as nonsense."

"What did it say?"

"Mrs. Bradley claimed that the attacker was a monster. She said he was stabbed by her husband's sword but he didn't die. She claimed that his wounds were healed instantly in a flash of red light. And she said that his skin changed… that it became like stone. Sound familiar?"

Ed gasped. "Greed's ultimate shield! So it was another homunculus who killed him."

"That's my theory anyway."

"It makes sense. Except… Greed wasn't Xingese." Ed thought back and pictured the Greed from his memory. The homunculus had dark hair but his eyes were grey. His face was square, with a pronounced jaw line. His face, his frame, his voice… none of it screamed Xing.

Another image flashed through his mind, without his permission. It was from another place and time – red, slanted eyes and a shock of black hair, partially obscuring a thin face with eastern features.

_Ling?_ He shook his head to clear the image. He didn't need to think about Ling right now. He needed to focus on this Greed problem.

"Maybe the Greed you met wasn't." His father's voice brought Ed out of his memories. "But the Greed I ran into certainly seemed to be."

"W-what do mean?"

"It was the last time anyone has seen a homunculus, as far as I'm aware. You were almost two at the time. I was sent out to investigate some strange occurrences in Zumcan. Someone else was investigating them as well. At first I mistook the man for Ling Yao, but he corrected me. Said he was –"

"Wait, wait! You thought he was Ling?!"

"At first but then he told me he was Greed and… Ed what's wrong?"

Ed gripped his forehead between his hands. He didn't have a headache per say. It was just that his mind was suddenly so full. Images and sounds sped through his head faster than he could focus on them.

_A large green monster._

"_Let him go! He's got people waiting for him to come back."_

_Writhing faces._

_Pressure._

"_A human based homunculus is created."_

"_Sorry but your friend just checked out."_

"_Answer me, Ling! Ling!"_

_A room filled with pipes._

"_I'm not gonna let you do this to him!" _

_Screaming. _

_Writhing in pain._

"_This is exactly what I want."_

"_No, don't!"_

_A contorted form._

_Fighting._

"_Wake up, Ling!"_

"_It's Greed."_

"_Still Greed."_

"_It's still Greed, Kid."_

"Ed!"

Ed jumped as his father's voice startled him out of the influx of memory. His body was shaking and he would probably be hunched over in his seat if it weren't for the strong hands holding him up by his shoulders. He looked up into his father's worried face, even as his own eyes blurred with unshed tears.

"Son, what is it? What happened?"

"I…" he swallowed. "The memories… sometimes they get really overwhelming. I can't – I can't control them." He breathed heavily and willed his heart rate to slow. He hated it when the memories came like that. There was no structure or order to them. They just bombarded his mind and he was lucky if he could retain anything from it. And it always had an exhausting effect on his body. It was almost like the panic attack he'd had before, except it was mostly internal and he came out of it a lot faster. He'd been lucky not to have one of these spells in public before now, though. And it hadn't happened much at all since he started his exercise routine.

It was only as his father steadied him in his seat and removed the comforting grip from his shoulders so as to sit properly in his own that Ed realized the car was stopped. His dad had obviously pulled over in haste at noticing his son's distress. Luckily, it seemed that they had made it to Central HQ as the car was currently parked neck to the curb outside the gates.

"What did you remember?" His father asked once Ed seemed a little more settled.

Ed chewed on his lip and hesitantly reached his mind towards the glimpses he'd managed to fish out of that bombardment. He sighed. "It's hard to hold on to much when it comes at me like that but… I think – if I'm remembering right – I think Ling was…" Ed scowled. "Ling was turned into a homunculus… into Greed."

And it was true. He knew it now. And he felt a surge of anger bubble up inside, from somewhere near his stomach. He was furious – at the homunculi for doing this, at Ling for accepting it so willingly, at himself… for not being able to stop it.

"I was there… I was right _there_ and I couldn't stop them. I couldn't stop him." Ed clenched his fists in his lap and glared at the dashboard, but he wasn't seeing the interior of the car. In his mind, he was standing in front of Ling, in front of Greed. _Why?! Why did you let them do this to you?_ "He was my friend - probably the only friend I had outside of Al and Winry. And I couldn't do anything to help him. I failed him… just like I failed Al… and Winry, and Kale, and Bri. Why can't I just do something right for once?!"

He didn't realize he'd swung his automail fist until he found himself staring at a large crack in the dashboard. He gasped and turned wide eyes towards his father. But the General wasn't looking at him. If he'd noticed Ed's act of violence towards the car, he didn't show it. The man's eyes were closed, almost as though he was sleeping, but Ed knew otherwise. He could see in the set of his shoulders that Mustang was alert and fully aware of his surroundings.

"Are you finished?" The General's eyes snapped open, but didn't turn to look at him. They stared straight ahead, waiting for Ed's response.

Ed nodded and felt the heat of anger wash away from him, leaving only grief in its wake. "Yeah, I'm done." He muttered. "I'm sorry about the –"

"Don't worry about the car." The General's onyx eyes were on him now and Ed felt small underneath his stare. "Listen to me, Ed."

And then those familiar hands were back on his shoulders, pulling him across the bench and into a warm embrace and suddenly this wasn't the General anymore. It wasn't the Colonel either, or even Mustang.

It was just Dad.

He welcomed the embrace even as he continued to fight the sting behind his eyes. He didn't want to cry right now – not in his dad's car right in front of HQ. He breathed in his father's scent and allowed it to ease away some of the pain he felt in his heart.

"It wasn't your fault, Ed. None of this." His father's words were firm, solidifying into something almost tangible, grounding Ed into the present. "What happened to Ling was not your fault. You didn't turn him into a homunculus and you didn't make someone else do it. We can't always stop bad things from happening. Sometimes, all we can do is keep trying. I wasn't there to see what happened after the fact but I _know _that you didn't just give up on Ling. I know that you kept trying to reach him. It's not in you to give up on people, Son. It isn't now and it wasn't then. And that's what makes you such a good friend."

Once upon a time, Colonel Roy Mustang gave a speech to a little boy in a wheel chair. He told that boy to keep moving forward even if the way ahead lies through a river of mud. Ed thought that speech had been pretty darn inspirational. There wasn't really much that could beat it, in fact. But as Ed leaned back to look up into his father's eyes, he found himself wondering how the man had managed to get even better at giving motivational speeches over the years.


	14. in which the boys are back in town

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** So, as I delve deeper into what did and didn't happen after Ed was turned into a baby, I realize that some of what I've put into previous chapters was inaccurate – namely, that Mustang's team was absent during that first month after he found Ed. They'd all been scattered and Riza was under Bradley's command at the time, so Roy was basically on his own there. I'll have to go back and make changes to the story at some point. For now, I'm just gonna leave it as is but I'm letting you know that I am aware of the discrepancies. Following cannon is _hard!_

I'd like to thank TheHaloFreak for volunteering to make some cover art for this story. Let's give a big cheer and lots of support in this endeavor. If anyone else would like to draw something for this story, feel free to do so. I'd love to see some _ABNE_ fanart.

Also, I like to pick on Havoc too much. And, interesting note – while I was doing research for Falman's speech in this chapter, I found that the theory of retroactive interference as an inhibitor to the spontaneous recovery of memory was made by one _George Edward Briggs_ – there are just too many coincidences in that name.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 14, in which the boys are back in town**

"So, after Bradley was killed, why didn't you try to become Fuhrer?" Ed asked as he reached into the back seat for his bag.

"You mean the position that every general in the country was vying for at the same time? No, thank you. The military government was a mess for months after that, with everyone stepping on top of someone else to reach the top. It was a political bloodbath. There was no sense in getting involved in all that when the pieces were going to fall somewhat randomly once everything settled anyway. Besides, I had more important priorities at the time." While he was speaking, Ed's father took the time to adjust his hair in the rearview mirror. But as he finished, he turned to give his son a significant look.

It took a moment for Ed to understand what his dad was saying but once he did a new wash of culpability fell over him. He bit his lip and looked down at his bag which was now resting in his lap. "Me." He concluded. "You didn't reach the top because of me."

A pair of fingers chucked his chin back up and Ed found his father staring at him seriously. "It. Wasn't. Your. Fault. Ed." Each word was punctuated, leaving no room for argument. "I chose this path, remember? And I have no regrets. Besides, I wouldn't have gotten very far if I had tried for the top at that point. I was only a Colonel then. No mere Colonel, Flame Alchemist or not, was gonna be promoted to Fuhrer just like that. Besides, I was on Bradley's black list at the time and quite a few of the higher ups were in on that plot. As it was the shuffle that occurred after Bradley's death was good in that people stopped paying attention to me. While they were busy backstabbing one another and fighting for a seat closer to the top, I was able to get my team back and adopt a conspicuous little boy without anyone looking twice. And after things settled a bit, there were a lot of empty holes to fill. Luckily, I've known Fuhrer Grumman for a long time and I was able to use my connections to move up the ranks a bit and take a vacant seat. So you see, I haven't given up on reaching the top. I'm just taking my time to get there."

Ed nodded. It was a bit disconcerting, though, realizing that not only did he have to work on regaining his memories but also on refreshing what he knew about more recent Amestrian history. He needed to know what happened afterwards, during those years he was too young to remember.

His dad opened the car door. "C'mon, let's go. Your mother is going to think I stopped somewhere to get out of doing paperwork. Do you have any idea how much work piled up while I was gone? I've been at it all morning. It was all I could do to convince Riza to let _me_ pick you up just so I could take a break from the office. I'll probably be working late tonight so you'll have to go home with your mother when you finish going through the case files."

"Can I take them home with me?" Ed asked, getting out of the car and closing the door behind him. Together, father and son made their way into Central headquarters.

"I don't see why not. It's a cold case so no one around here will be looking for them. Seeing as how they've never even been filed properly, I'm not sure anyone outside my office know where they are."

"Why haven't they been filed properly?"

"Because they've been in my desk." There was a sad, far-away look in his father's eyes. "I take them out every now and then when I finish my paperwork – and even sometimes when I haven't. I must've poured through those notes a hundred times. Never could find anything new in them."

They walked in silence for a moment and Ed heaved a heavy sigh. He'd been so sure that he'd be able to figure out where Al was based on those notes. But he was starting to doubt himself. If his father couldn't find anything after twelve years of searching, how was he going to figure out anything?

A warm hand clasped his shoulder and his looked up to see his father smiling confidently. "You'll find something, Son."

Ed nodded. His dad was right. He couldn't start giving up before he even started. Maybe it wouldn't be as easy as opening the files and seeing the answer plain as day in front of him but that didn't mean he was going to stop trying.

They made their way through the hallways of Central command and stopped before the closed door to General Mustang's office suite. Ed took a deep breath. This was it. He was about to start on the journey that would lead him to his brother.

"You ready?"

"Yup."

His father opened the door.

Ed stopped at the threshold though, as four familiar heads turned to see who was entering the room. He knew them. Of course he knew them. He'd known them his entire life and he'd seen all of them just a month ago at his birthday party. But suddenly it was like he was seeing them again for the first time after a very long time because the four men sitting before him weren't just his loving uncles who happened to work for his father.

They were Mustang's team.

Master Sergeant Fuery, with his gentle smile and quiet demeanor, always ready to help out a friend in need, a mastermind with technology and communications – he always had a smile for Ed and Al when they came back from their missions.

Warrant Officer Falman, straight-laced and formal, but always honest and hardworking, a veritable walking encyclopedia – he was able to provide Ed and Al with the most reliable information about almost any subject.

Second Lieutenant Breda, laid-back and unassuming on the outside, but a real quick thinker and a brilliant strategist, a true friend, as loyal as the dogs he so fears – he helped Ed plot out a few good pranks even while Al stood by attempting to dissuade them.

Second Lieutenant Havoc, good-natured, cigarette smoking, country boy who never could hold on to a girlfriend, sarcastic and clever, a beacon of common sense amidst the bureaucracies of military life – his teasing was always in good-spirits and Ed never minded it quite as much from him as from others.

Back then… they weren't his uncles but in a way, they were still like family. Ed never told anyone, not even Al, but he'd started to see them as something like the big brothers he never had. When it came right down to it, these four men, along with Mustang, were the only male role models he'd ever had. He already loved his uncles, but knowing what he did now, they suddenly meant so much more to him than they had before.

"Hey, Big Guy!" Breda called out in his usual greeting.

"Heya, Chief!" Havoc added. "Nobody told me it was bring-your-kid-to-work day."

"But you don't have any children, Lieutenant." Fuery pointed out.

"It's the principle of the thing. They should let everyone know. Am I right, Chief?"

Ed just chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia. "Sheesh, Havoc. You're still calling me that?"

The man blinked. "What, _Chief_? I've always called you Chief. And what's with the _Havoc_ stuff? I thought I was Uncle Jean."

It was Ed's turn to blink and then he gasped as he caught his mistake. He looked to his father, unsure of what to do, but the General just rolled his eyes and shut the door firmly behind them. "Good going there, Ed."

The boy winced apologetically. Hesitantly, he asked, "Can I tell them?"

"Tell us what?" Breda asked. Suddenly, four sets of eyes were firmly locked on the father-son pair by the door.

Ed looked between his uncles and his father. He didn't know how to respond. Were they supposed to know? How much could they tell? How much needed to stay a secret? _They're Dad's team – my uncles – they should be able to know, right? They can be trusted._ The questions danced in his eyes as he asked again, "Can I?"

His father waited long enough to answer that Ed was sure the man was just holding out to heighten the anticipation. Ed started to grin well before his father answered. "Everyone in this room is fully aware of your particular circumstances, Ed. You can tell them whatever you want." With that, the General turned and retreated into his inner office, though he left the dividing door open, likely on purpose so as to listen in on what was sure to be an interesting revelation.

Ed smiled widely and turned to face his uncles. Havoc looked confused while Breda was frowning sharply, likely trying to work out what was going on before anything was said. Fuery fiddled with his radio receiver, trying not to seem too expectant, and Falman was as straight-faced as ever, his curiosity only betrayed by the slight arch in his left eyebrow.

"Just what do you want to tell us, Ed?" Breda asked slowly. Ed could almost see the gears in the man's head working to puzzle this out.

He decided to follow his father's lead though and drag the revelation out a little longer. The smile never left his face as he tossed his bag on the ground and crossed the room to sit in a vacant chair which he spun around a few times, enjoying the centrifugal force. "Oh, nothing much." He said idly before he stopped his spinning abruptly with one foot on the desk in front of him. He grinned wickedly and leaned back as far as he could against the springs of the chair. "Just that I _remember_." He finished, putting particular emphasis on the last word.

Everyone frowned… and then Breda gasped. Havoc turned to look at his friend and seemed to reason out that Breda has figured it out. His eyebrows pinched together as he thought about it and then widened in realization, only to narrow again, skeptically.

"What exactly do you remember, Ed?" He fished for confirmation even as Breda sat back with a satisfied grin, having met Ed's eyes and seen the slight, affirmative nod the boy gave him. Now Ed exchanged a looks with the red-haired man. Ed was plotting something wicked and Breda nodded to show his approval.

If Falman and Fuery had pieced it together, they didn't show it. They seemed to be waiting for more information though and Ed decided to give it to them at Havoc's expense.

"I remember a lot of things." Ed shrugged.

"Like what, Chief?"

"Like…" he drew out the word as an evil glint came into his eye. "I remember that it was _you_ who glued the Colonel's gloves to the inside of his desk."

Havoc sputtered and his unlit cigarette fell out of his mouth. Meanwhile, Ed thanked the random tidbits his memory had so conveniently decided to grace him with. They hadn't seemed so important before but now he was realizing just how useful they could be.

The moment was made even better when Mustang chose to re-enter the room, a stern glower gracing his face. "That was you?"

Havoc just about fell out of his seat as he dove behind his desk to hide from the General's wrath. When Mustang didn't instantly send a fireball his way, the poor man, peeked over the edge and turned accusing eyes back towards Ed.

"You promised you wouldn't tell, Ed."

The boy only smiled. Beside him, Breda was snickering. Fuery was trying to hide a smile behind his hand and Falman was forced to clear his throat several times. Bolstered by their enthusiasm, Ed turned his fun up a notch. Putting on the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage, he asked innocently, "But Uncle Jean, you wouldn't ask me to lie to my own father, would you?"

"He – he didn't ask! You didn't even need to bring it up!"

"Sure I did." Ed argued, dropping the sweet act. "I've been taking the fall for that one for thirteen years!"

"You're only twelve years old!"

"Maybe. But I already told you… I remember."

The First Lieutenant didn't seem to know how to respond to that but luckily he didn't have to because Breda decided to step in and save his friend. "Okay, okay. That's enough you two. It's all in the past after all." He helped Havoc back into his seat and then turned to face Ed with a smile. "So is this for real, Big Guy? You remember everything?"

Ed shrugged. "Well… not _everything_. My memory is still fuzzy in a lot of places. But I remember enough."

"That's good to hear. I'm happy for you, Ed." Fuery said with a gentle smile.

"Thanks Fuery, er… Uncle Kain. Sorry." Ed blushed at his fumble. It was one thing to call Uncle Jean by his last name on purpose, to make a point. It was another to mix up the names by accident. Actually… he wasn't really sure what he should call them anymore. They were the _team_ now – his co-workers once upon a time – but they were still his uncles.

Uncle Kain just brushed aside the apology though. "Call me whatever you're comfortable with, Ed."

"The same goes for me." Uncle Vato added. "I'm glad you are doing so well, Edward. I am curious about how you've regained your memories, though. This does not seem to be a reminder effect but rather a true spontaneous recovery. Spontaneous recovery from retrograde amnesia is often hindered by retroactive interference, which is the theory that learning something new impedes retrieval of a memory that was previously learned. You have learned much in the past twelve years and these experiences have likely interfered greatly with the retrieval of past memories. That they are returning now, after so much time, seems quite unique. Have your memories been returning gradually as the result of active search and reconstruction, or did they come to you unprompted, without active search."

Ed blinked, having only followed half of what Uncle Vato was saying. "Um… both? I think?"

"Ah, forget all that scientific nonsense, Ed." Uncle Jean slung an arm around his shoulders, seeming to have forgiven Ed's earlier snitch. "Tell me, Chief. Does this mean you're really the _Chief_ again?"

The boy grinned and nodded. "That's right, Uncle Jean. The Fullmetal Alchemist is back."

Havoc let out a _woot!_ which was followed up by a cheer from Breda and some clapping from Fuery. But all sounds of excitement were stopped abruptly when the General stepped forward.

"No, Ed." He said firmly. "You're not Fullmetal, anymore. Not here. I don't want you parading that name around where anyone might hear it. At home is one thing. It's too dangerous here."

It irked Ed, a little to be denied the name that had been part of him for so long. But he understood what his father was saying. His Uncles could know and maybe Aunt Gracia. Ed didn't particularly _want_ Armstrong to know but he supposed it might happen. Other than that, this was to remain a secret – for his own safety and the safety of those he cares about. He nodded once. "I know, Dad. I won't."

"Good. Finish up out here and then join me in my office. I have the files ready for you." The General turned and went back into his own space.

There was a moment of silence, following his retreat, before Havoc turned to look at Ed skeptically. "So… is that weird at all?"

"What?"

Havoc nodded towards the General's office. "Mustang. He's… well, your Dad."

Ed felt a blush threaten to rise up on his cheeks and fought it back. Of course. The team knew full well how explosive the relationship between Flame and Fullmetal had been before. Ed supposed it must've taken some getting used to, seeing them together as father and son. Now that Ed knew the truth of everything too though, it would only seem logical to the team that things would change – for the better or for the worse was what they wanted to know.

Ed considered the question. Had things changed? Yes, he supposed they had. Just thinking back over the event of the weekend, Ed knew that there was a difference in dynamics between him and his father. Their banter had taken on a different tone – a bit meaner at times, but somehow comforting and nostalgic all the same. There were other differences – more subtle – like the way his father stepped back to listen to his side of things during their argument about his becoming a State Alchemist again. It wasn't so much something he would have done before – when Ed was Fullmetal – but it did show that his father was giving him the respect of recognizing that he did have fifteen extra years worth of experience under his belt, even if he didn't remember everything yet, and those experiences would help him make informed decisions. In a sense, his father was treating him more like an adult at times. But he was still there to step up and be the father when he needed to be – like earlier in the car. Ed was grateful for that. Things were just to chaotic in his mind right now for him to be expected to grow up over night. So yes things had changed. But a lot of things were still the same.

He looked up at his Uncle Jean. "I guess it's kinda weird at times. I mean, he is the _Colonel_ after all." He emphasized the rank and winked to let them know he was joking. "But… he's still my Dad. He's been my Dad for twelve years. I can't really fault the guy for being an egotistical jerk in the past when he's given me so much. I guess I'll just have to put up with it, you know."

He turned to follow his dad into the back office but paused when his comments were met with complete silence. He looked back and smiled genuinely at the guys. "I'm okay with it. Really. I've got the best Dad in the world."

When he entered the General's office, he saw his father sitting behind the desk, smirking smugly. Ed just rolled his eyes. "Don't let it go to your head, old man."

"Not at all, Shrimp." Ed glared, but before he could respond, his father pushed a fat folder towards him, across the desktop.

Ed's eyes flew open wide. "Is that it?"

"That's it." The General nodded. "Everything we have on the disappearance and possible whereabouts of Alphonse Elric."

* * *

_**Missing Person – Initial Report**_

_Type of Entry: Juvenile, possibly endangered_

_Agency: Amestrian Military Intelligence (AMI)_

_Reporting Officer: Lieutenant Jacob Charlie_

_Missing From: Central City_

_Last Known Location: Central City Train Depot, industrial district (presumed)_

_Date of Report: November 17, 1914_

_Date of Last Contact: November 16, 1914_

_Time of Last Contact: 2100 (twenty-one hundred hours)_

_**Missing Person Subject Information**_

_Name: Alphonse Elric_

_Sex: Male_

_Race: Amestrian_

_Rank: none, civilian_

_Hieght: 220cm (armor; actual height unknown)_

_Weight: unknown_

_Hair color: unknown_

_Eye color: unknown_

_Age: 14_

_Date of Birth (DOB): September 5, 1900_

_Place of Birth (POB): Resembool, Eastern Region, Amestris_

_Scars, Marks, Tattoos (SMT): Red "Flamel" symbol (winged cross with serpent) on left shoulder_

_Immediate Relatives: Major Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist – brother, age 15, Missing in Action (MIA)_

_Miscellaneous Information: Subject is most commonly seen wearing a large suit of armor as is not known to appear in public outside of it. Notable details on armor include shoulder spikes, a white hair tail on helmet, white loincloth, and black leather gloves. See photograph below._

Ed sighed and ran his fingers through his too long hair. His itched to tie it back in a familiar braid or at least a ponytail but it wasn't quite long enough yet. His eyes lingered on the photograph provided at the bottom of the first page of the report. The page itself didn't contain anything that Ed hadn't already known, but he read through it anyway, determined not to miss anything.

The photograph was a copy of one he'd already seen – the same one he had at home, filed away with his journal pages. Edward Elric was in the front, posed with a cocky smile in his trademark, red coat. Alphonse stood behind him, a tall, stoic suit of armor which hid the soul of a bright, optimistic, sensitive young boy – his little brother. Ed had spent hours staring at the copy he had at home but that apparently wasn't enough for him because his eyes remained locked on the photo in the report for several minutes. It was all he had left of his brother really – a handful of photos, a battered journal, and a miniature replica he'd made using alchemy before he even recognized the image for what it was.

Finally, he pushed the photo aside and scanned through the first page one last time. Nothing of particular note caught his attention except… "Hey, Dad?" He waited for his father to look up from his gigantic stack of paperwork. "Where is the Central City Train Depot? Is it near Central Station?"

The General shook his head. "No, it's on the outskirts of the city, near the warehouse district. The trains typically stop there to restock coal and to add or remove cars."

"What was Al doing there?"

"We don't know for sure that he was but it's likely since he was looking for you. This is in the report, Ed. I'll be happy to talk about it at home but I really need to get busy before the daggers in your mother's eyes transform into actual bullets."

Ed glance across the room at his mother who had paused in filing paperwork and was, indeed, glaring daggers at her husband. Ed swallowed, glad not to be on the receiving end of that look. "Right, sorry."

He turned back to his own work and flipped to the next page of the report.

_**Statement**_

_Recorded by: Lieutenant Jacob Charlie_

_Given by: Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist_

_Alphonse Elric was last seen in my [read: Colonel Mustang's] office at twenty-one hundred hours on the sixteenth of November, 1914. He was seeking information as to the whereabouts of his elder brother, Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. He was informed that Fullmetal was away on a mission and would return shortly. Alphonse seemed angry at the time and demanded to know where his brother had gone. I [read: Colonel Mustang] informed him that the information was classified and that he would be notified as soon as his brother returned to headquarters. Alphonse insisted that he would go after Fullmetal despite warnings against this action. _

_It is my [read: Colonel Mustang's] belief that after Alphonse Elric left my office, he managed to find out where Fullmetal had been assigned and proceeded to search for the young State Alchemist. Major Elric had been sent to Central City Train Depot on a classified mission that was not meant to take more than twenty-four hours. When Fullmetal failed to report in the next day, November 17__th__, I [read: Colonel Mustang] sought out the younger brother's whereabouts. It was discovered that Alphonse Elric had not returned to the military barracks where he often stayed with his brother. After Major Elric was reported Missing in Action, I [read: Colonel Mustang] submitted a Civilian Missing Person's report to alert investigations to the disappearance of Alphonse Elric._

The next page included a statement from the Barracks Guard on duty the night Alphonse went missing, confirming that he had not returned to the dorms. After that, there were several investigation reports citing interviews with persons who claimed to have seen Alphonse on November 17th. Few of them could verify whether they'd seen him before or after nine o'clock – the last _confirmed_ time he was seen. However, taxi driver reported having spoken to Al.

_He wanted to know if I'd seen his brother. Gave a pretty good description – short, blonde boy with a red coat. I told him, yeah, I remember that kid. Gave him a ride to the Industrial District just that morning. Offered to give the dude in the armor a ride as well but he just ran off before I could do more than ask. _

So that explained how Al found out where Ed had gone. But it still didn't verify if Al had ever made it to where Ed was. Ed was almost certain though, that Al must've found him and whatever they encountered next, they dealt with it together. If Al hadn't found him, he would've gone back to headquarters eventually. But he never showed up and that told Ed that either Al found him and then they found trouble together or else they both managed to find trouble at the same time from two different sources in two different locations. Was that even possible?

Ed rubbed his temples and bit back a groan so he wouldn't disturb his parents. He was thinking himself in circles.

The pages which followed the Taxi driver's report were dated a few days later. They covered the initial search and what information was put out to the public. A small reward was offered for any information which helped investigators find either Edward or Alphonse Elric.

After that, dozens of reports were listed – people trying to earn the reward money with cheap information. None of it led anywhere. Those people who had genuinely seen Alphonse were found out to have not actually seen Al in months or even years for some of them. One report even came in from Youswell. Ed flipped through the pages, intending to go back and read through them carefully later.

After the initial wave of reports, they started to dwindle. According to the dates on the pages, there was a two month period during which no reports were recorded. Ed wasn't sure whether that meant there were no reports coming in at all or if the investigation team assigned to the case had just been too busy to work on it. Given that the dates corresponded with the Bradley assassination and the subsequent chaos in the government, he figured it was probably the later.

Reposts started flowing in again at a much slower rate. It quickly went from one or two a day, to once a week, to once a month, to only twice a year. Ed turned to the last page and frowned. The very last report had come in on the twenty-first of June in 1917. That meant nothing had been heard about Al since Ed was three years old. With a heavy sigh, he read the last report. It was from a maid at a hotel in Central. That fact alone, made Ed hesitant to believe its legitimacy. There was no way Al would've been so close and not come looking for him. He read the Statement anyway.

_The room had recently been vacated and I was sent in to clean it. Of course I don't usually take note of the names of the occupants – it's not my business, you see. My job is simply to tidy up and prepare the room for the next guest. But someone had left a book in the room. I don't usually go poking through that sort of thing either but I was curious because the book was written in another language – Xingese I think it was. They're the ones with the funny writing, right? Well, I couldn't read a word of it, of course, but for the name on the inside of the cover. Now, I should tell you that my little sister went missing years ago and I was ever so grateful when someone found her that I vowed to pay attention to all the missing persons cases just in case I ever stumbled across something that might help someone else. So when I saw the name in the book, well I recognized it right away even though it had been years since it appeared in the papers. Alphonse Elric. That's what it was. _

After that there was record of a short follow-up during which several other employees were interviewed.

_No reports matching description given. Room was rented under the name May Chang. Not enough evidence to continue investigation._

It was a curious report. Ed considered it for several moments and read it a second time. It made him wonder if there was someone else in the country named Alphonse Elric. It wasn't a common name at all, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible. Otherwise, how could _his_ Alphonse Elric have stayed at a hotel without _someone _noticing the giant suit of armor walking around?

_Or maybe this May Chang person just happened to have a book that Al used to own… But Al didn't read Xingese so he wouldn't have had a Xingese book. Ugh… I don't know!_ Ed was starting to get a headache from pondering this report. He flipped back to the beginning and started reading the first reports. Surely that information would make a little more sense – even if most of it was falsified in hopes of a reward.

* * *

Two hours later, Ed looked up from reading as his mother called for him to start getting ready to go home. His father would stay late, as he'd mentioned earlier, and likely bring some work home with him as well. But it was almost dinner time and a school night, so Ed was expected to go home with his mother. Besides, his stomach had started growling sometime ago and he felt like he could eat a whole chicken by himself.

He'd gotten several pages into the reports but it was slow work as he pondered every scenario from several different angles, trying to reason out what was true, what was contrived, and what was utter nonsense. He wanted to make sure he didn't miss a single detail that might possibly be important even if the process was tedious and mind-numbing.

_Definitely time for a break. And food. Food would be good._

He started re-stacking the papers neatly in preparation to slide them back into their file. As he was doing so, a knock came on the inner office door and Uncle Jean stepped into the room carrying a stack of papers.

"Excuse me, General. These just came in for you from downstairs. Where would you… like me to put them?" Uncle Jean trailed off as he eyed the General's overly crowded desk.

Ed's father groaned and waved an absent hand in the direction of the right corner. "Wherever they won't cause an avalanche."

Ed couldn't help but snicker at the scene. It was so familiar – both in his present life-time and in his memories of the past. His dad had always hated paperwork. But as Ed turned to smirk at the overworked General, his smile dropped into a look of confusion.

"Havoc?"

The blond solider looked over his shoulder at Ed. "What's up, Chief?"

Ed blinked and frowned. It couldn't be right but he was sure he remembered… "You can walk…" he muttered distantly.

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "Yup. I can run and jump too. Why? You wanna see me do tricks?"

"No… I just…" He stopped and shook his head. "Nevermind. I must be mixing stuff up in my head."

But he'd already caught the attention of the two other occupants in the room. His father and mother exchanged looks and then the General nodded slightly. "You're remembering when Havoc was paralyzed." He concluded without question.

The Lieutenant gasped, as though suddenly remembering. "Oh, wow! That's right! You got turned into a little tike not long after that happened. Sheesh, it's been so long now, I'd half forgotten it myself."

"So that did happen?" Ed asked.

"Sure it did. I was still in the chair at your parent's wedding, remember?"

Ed had to think about that for a moment. He'd spent a lot of time lately focused on memories, but his early childhood memories weren't really a part of that. His recollection of his parent's wedding was mostly fuzzy with a few significant moments of clarity – like when he proudly carried the rings down the aisle and when he danced with his dad and new mom at the same time, as a complete family.

He _sort of_ remembered Havoc being there but it wasn't until he thought about the wedding pictures he'd seen more recently that he recalled the chair. Now that he thought about it, that chair had been a big part of what defined Uncle Jean for him in those early years. He didn't really understand what it meant at the time. He didn't realize that his uncle _couldn't _walk. That was just the way it was. Uncle Jean wasn't around as much as the other guys, but when he did show up he was always in his wheelchair… at least, until sometime a bit later. Ed thought he might have been four.

"_Uncle Jean! Where's your chair?"_

"_I don't need it anymore, Little Chief."_

Ed brushed the audio memory away and focused on the present. "Yeah, but… how did you get your legs to work again? I thought it was permanent."

"It was." Havoc affirmed. He held up a hand to stall his nephew's questions and then gestured to the two legs he was standing so steadily upon. "I owe this little miracle to one mysterious doctor who wandered into Havoc General Store not long after the wedding. There I was, minding the store –" Uncle Jean launched into story mode and Ed sat back down, eager to listen. "– when this strange man with a badly scarred face waltzes in. He says he's a doctor and wants to know if I want him to fix my legs. Of course, I didn't believe for a minute that it was possible. Thought for sure it was a hoax. So I said, oh yeah, sure I'd love for someone to fix my legs but it ain't possible and I ain't paying you jack so get out of my store. He didn't leave though. He just looked me up and down and said in a real tired voice – I don't want your money Jean Havoc. I only want to make up for the wrongs I've done in this world by doing some small amount of good before I die – and that's word-for-word. I don't know what made me believe the guy. There was something about his eyes, I suppose. But the next thing I know I'm laying out on my bed upstairs and good Doctor pulls out a little red stone. Then there was a flash of light and suddenly I could feel my toes again. Just like that! And let me tell you what – they hurt! It was like pins and needles for the rest of the day but I could _move _again. Took me awhile before I could walk. My legs had atrophied so much over the years that they couldn't support my weight. But after about half a year of physical therapy, I was trotting back here to Central to lay my re-up forms on the General's desk."

Ed grinned. "That's awesome, Uncle Jean! Kinda crazy, but awesome. He must've used some kind of medical alchemy to fix you. They do a lot of that in Xing, right? Was he Xingese? Or… wait… did you say he used a red stone?"

"Yeah," Havoc scratched at the back of his neck. "I'm pretty sure it was one of those philosopher's stone things you and Al were looking for back in the day. Can't say I was too happy when I realized that but I can't really complain about the results either so…"

Ed was on his feet in an instant. "Where is he? The doctor – what was his name?"

"He didn't tell me his name, Ed. Why do you ask?"

"Because I need to know! It not just _one _of those things we were looking for. It's _the_ thing. That stone is the key to fixing everything – to getting Al's body back! I need it!"

"But I thought you guys decided not to use the stone after you found out –"

"Havoc." The General's sharp voice cut him off. Ed wasn't sure what was said in the silent exchange, between the two men, that followed but he caught the subtle shake of his father's head and realized quickly that something was being hidden from him.

"What? What aren't you telling me? What did I find out? Why wouldn't I want to use the stone?" He rattled off the questions too quickly for anyone to get a word in edgewise. When he finished, his father sighed.

"Son, I really don't think –"

"No!" Ed shouted, cutting his father off when he realized they weren't going to answer his questions. "Why won't you tell me? What are you hiding from me?!"

"Ed," his father came around the desk to stand in front of him. Ed shrugged off the hands that fell on his shoulders and glared at the General. He was tired of being treated like a child – tired of having secrets kept from him after being run ragged on mission after mission when he knew – _he knew!_ – that they were only in this to find out how to get their bodies back. If the Colonel was keeping secrets, standing in their way just to keep him in the military longer and help bolster his own career then Ed was really gonna show him what-for. Nobody uses Edward Elric and _nobody_ stands in the way of getting his brother's body back!

"Ed, we're not hiding anything from you."

"The hell you're not! You don't want to tell me about the philosopher's stone!"

"You're right, I don't want to tell you."

"See! You admit it!"

"I want you to remember on your own."

_Remember_

_Remember_

"You…" Ed breathed heavily, suddenly feeling lost. "You want me to remember?"

Those familiar hands came to rest on his shoulders again and, this time, he let them stay. "I do. These things are too important for us to just tell you. You need to find the truth in here." A single finger touched the side of Ed's head before the hand returned to its place on his shoulder. He leaned into the warmth and strength they provided and closed his eyes.

"Dad." He whispered.

"Son."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

* * *

**A Comedic Interlude**

"General Mustang's office. How may I direct your call?"

"Could I please speak to Lieutenant Jean Havoc?" a female voice answered. It was a pretty sort of voice which spoke in a melodious way that was a far cry from the professional voice Ed was used to hearing from military women. And she was asking for Havoc. Uncle Jean _had_ mentioned that he was expecting a call from his date. Ed grinned. It could be fun to play with his uncle… just a bit.

"Yes, ma'am. Of course." He answered politely. "Hold on one moment. I'll get him for you." He didn't put the phone down. He only held it away from his head a little so that he wouldn't hurt her ears but she could definitely still hear him as he shouted, "Uncle Jean! Phone! I think it's your girlfriend."

There was a clatter in the other room which Ed was sure equated to Havoc falling out of his chair. He stifled his snicker as he put the phone back to his ear. "He'll be here in just a moment ma'am." He informed the woman, making sure his young age was apparent in his voice.

"Oh, well aren't you the sweetest thing!" she cooed and Ed knew he'd caught her. "I didn't know Jean had a nephew."

"He sure does!" He grinned as Havoc stumbled into the room and held his hand out for the phone. Ed lifted one finger to indicate that the older man should wait as he continued talking. "I mean, we're not related by blood or anything but my dad has been his boss for years, so we're practically family."

"Ed…" Havoc muttered, clearly indicating that he wanted the phone.

"Oh! So you're General Mustang's son?"

Ed wasn't sure he could smile any wider but he sure tried. The woman knew about his dad. This was gonna make it too easy. "That's right. I'm Ed Mustang. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name, ma'am?" He poured on the sugar.

"Oh, of course! My name is Charisa." She didn't give a last name but Ed could work with that.

"C'mon, Chief. Give me the phone."

"How old are you Ed?"

"Just turned twelve!" he stated with as proud an air as he could muster. "Excuse me a moment, Ms. Charisa." He pulled the phone away from his ear again but didn't cover the receiver. "Please hold on, Uncle Jean. I'm talking to the lady." His voice was sweet but his grin was wicked and Havoc saw it. His jaw dropped open slightly, causing his unlit cigarette to dangle precariously out of his mouth.

"What the hell are you doing, Ed?" Havoc looked like he wanted to scream but he kept his voice low so that Charisa wouldn't hear him.

Ed just grinned and went back to his phone conversation. "Sorry about that, Ms. Charisa. What were you saying?"

"Oh, my! Ed you are such a dear. I'd heard that your father was quite the charmer back in the day but I had no idea his son was learning to be such a gentleman."

"Well, of course! Dad taught me everything he knows. It wouldn't be right if I didn't live up to his expectations after all, and he always expects me to treat a lady right."

Beside him, Havoc was fuming. At the door to Mustangs inner office, Breda, Fuery, and Falman were peering in with amused interest.

"I'm so glad to hear it. Oh, dear. I wish I could meet you, Ed. You must be a positively handsome young man."

It couldn't be more perfect. Ed was doing a happy dance in his head as he smirked at Havoc and said smoothly into the phone, "I'd like to meet you sometime too, Ms. Charisa."

Havoc's response was quite dramatic, even if it wasn't very loud. "Noooooo!" he moaned, dropping to his knees just as General Mustang pushed past the crowd by his door and marched into the room.

Ed looked up in time to catch his father's bewildered frown. "What is going on here?" The General asked looking between his subordinate and his son. Ed couldn't answer since he was still on the phone but Havoc was more than willing to supply.

The Lieutenant crawled across the floor on his knees and clung to his superior's coat tails with tears streaming down his face. "General Mustang, Sir, Ed is stealing my girlfriend!"

Ed had to cover his mouth and nose to keep his laughter, or a snort, from escaping. As it was, his whole body shook so hard that he almost lost his grip on the phone – if it hadn't been in his automail hand, he would have dropped it.

Breda, Fuery, and Falman had given up holding back their laughter and had retreated slightly from the room to avoid being overheard on the phone.

The General, for his part, seemed torn between finding the situation humorous or horrifying. His glance up at his son's shaking form seemed to settle the issue though because Mustang plastered a smirk on his face and said confidently, "Good job, Son."

"You're on his side?!" Havoc moaned. "You're supposed to stop him! He's your son!"

It was too much. Ed was near to tears from laughing so hard and he was going to need to breathe soon. He forced himself to calm down and took a few deep, but quiet breaths. _Alright, Uncle Jean is sufficiently teased. Time to make it up to him._

"You know, Ms. Charisa," he began once he was in control of his voice. "Uncle Jean has been planning to take me to that new theme park outside the city – the one with the roller coaster?"

Havoc glared. "I'm not taking you to a theme park, you girlfriend stealing little punk."

Ed just smirked and continued. "I was thinking that maybe you'd like to join us."

"I just told you, I'm not taking – wait. What?"

"Oh, Ed. That's sweet, but I wouldn't want to intrude on your time with your uncle." Charisa argued.

"You wouldn't be intruding at all. Uncle Jean and I go places together all the time. It'll be nice to have someone else along for once."

Havoc's mouth was hanging open wide – his cigarette having been lost some time ago. Very slowly, he started to nod.

"You two must be really close."

"We sure are. Uncle Jean has been helping watch me since I was really little. He's great with kids – a real family guy, you know?"

Havoc was nodding excessively now and Ed thought maybe the man was going to give himself an aneurism.

"That's wonderful to hear. Well… if you're sure you don't mind me coming along, I'd love to go. What day will you be going?"

"Um… Does Saturday work for you?" He asked the question to Charisa but he looked up at his father and Havoc for their approval as well. His dad just shrugged. Havoc clasped his hands in front of his and nodded emphatically with tears of happiness streaming down his face.

"Yes, Saturday would be great. Oh, Ed. My break is almost up so I have to go but you'll let your Uncle Jean know about our plans, right?"

"I sure will. It was nice talking to you, Ms. Charisa. I look forward to meeting you on Saturday. Bye."

She bid him farewell and Ed hung up the phone with the biggest, shit-eating grin he could manage plastered on his face. Havoc waited all of three seconds to be up and doing a happy dance around the room.

"I've got a date with Charisa at a theme park!" he sang.

"Hey, don't forget who set you up with that date. You gotta bring me along, too." Ed reminded.

"Yes, yes, of course. But I'm sure you won't mind if Charisa and I slip off for a bit to ride the Tunnel of Love."

Ed blanched. "Ugh! Yeah, that's fine. I'll stick with the roller coaster."

Havoc jumped up and down like a giddy school girl. "Ed, you are amazing! I could kiss you."

"Please don't."

"Save that for your girlfriend, Havoc." Mustang cut in. "And get out of my office before you melt on the carpet – I just got it cleaned."

Havoc trotted off merrily while father and son watched him go. As soon as the door shut behind the happy man, they both broke into hysterical laughter.

"How the hell did you manage that?" Ed's dad asked.

"I learned from the best." Ed replied.


	15. in which Alphonse leaves a memory

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** So I don't normally answer review questions in my author's notes. I'll send a PM if I feel the question needs to be answered but if the question will eventually be answered within the story anyway, I'll typically leave it be so as to not spoil the surprise. Sometimes a question prompts me to think about things from a new angle and sometimes I include something in the next chapter on purpose so as to answer that question. I do love questions. So keep asking them. They help me cover all my bases. Anyway, I got a review today that I felt needed to be answered and probably more than one person has wondered the same thing. I didn't feel it was something I could answer through the story itself so I'm putting it here.

Breyannia asks: "Now that Ed is twelve, wouldn't some soldiers be able to recognize Ed from when he first joined the military? Cause he looks identical to Edward Elric despite the age difference, and short hair, so wouldn't some soldiers or even the homunculi be suspicious? Is Kimblee still alive? Or is he dead in this story?"

It's a logical assumption isn't it? My answer: When Ed was twelve, he was stationed in East City. He didn't start reporting regularly to Central until he was 14/15? So there is still a bit of an age gap (not that Ed grew much in those years or anything). Also, even after four years in the military, people were still assuming that Al was the Fullmetal Alchemist which indicates to me that most people weren't really paying much attention. Ed didn't really hang out there either and he certainly didn't go out of his way to meet people. So most people knew _about_ him but they probably wouldn't have been able to pick him out in a crowd (if they could even see him). As for those who did know him – outside Mustang's team – well there was a lot of shuffling around after Bradley was killed. Many officers were reassigned. Some soldiers were discharged, others resigned, and new ones came in. After all of that, the _face_ of Edward Elric was forgotten by those who didn't know him well. And pretty soon, little Ed Mustang started showing up with his mom and dad – not often, but enough that people knew who he was. He grew up there and the soldiers are now accustomed to seeing him. Now, if you watched a little kid grow up into a teenager and suddenly discovered that he looked a lot like someone you sorta kinda remember meeting twelve years ago, is your first conclusion gonna be that the person you remember somehow got transformed into a baby? Probably not – even in a world of Alchemy, that's a pretty big leap. So while some people _might _say, "Hey, Ed Mustang looks a lot like that Fullmetal kid from back in the day." They won't really be inclined to follow that idea much further. For them, it's little more than a coincidence. The only person I think would make the jump to the truth would be Grumman cause he's conniving and sneaky and weird. But I kinda think the old man would enjoy the situation as much as we do – because who doesn't like watching Roy try to raise a baby?

As for the homunculi – as Mustang stated earlier, they haven't been seen in years. And Kimblee… well you'll just have to wait and see. But I will point out that in Brotherhood, Kimblee doesn't actually meet Ed until Briggs and since that never happened in this story…

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 15, in which Alphonse leaves a memory **

The drive home from Central Headquarters was not very long. Roy could make it there in five minutes if traffic was light and, at ten o'clock on a Saturday night, there no traffic – not in the residential areas anyway. Downtown was probably bustling still.

Nevertheless, Roy found himself taking the drive slower than usual. It had been a long week but he'd finally managed to finish off the last of his backlogged paperwork. Come Monday morning, there wouldn't be anything on his desk until the mail came in at zero-nine-hundred hours and then it would just be the usual swath of reports he could put off for awhile – or at least until Riza pulled out her gun. One would think that after marrying him, she'd have stopped doing that, but _no_.

The only reason Roy hadn't felt guilty about working on a Saturday was because his son had spent the day at a theme park with Havoc (and Havoc's girlfriend) and Riza had gone to help her friend, Rebecca, get settled in her new apartment. The newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Catalina had recently been reassigned to Central – a fact which brought Mrs. Mustang great happiness, even as she did her best to hide her enthusiasm. Roy could certainly understand the value of having a best friend and he only wished he'd taken the time to visit his own more often before the man was killed. Hughes murder was still a sore spot for him. After all this time, the killer had never been found. Roy had his suspicions, of course, and the homunculi were first on his suspect list; but nothing could be confirmed or denied. It was just as much of a mystery as the disappearance of Alphonse Elric.

And that was what was truly weighing on his mind as he drove home. His son – his Ed – had used every moment that wasn't spent eating, sleeping, or in school, pouring through the case files. And Roy suspected that more than a few of those school hours were also used in his pursuit of answers. Oh, Ed had done well to keep his word to his friends and actually spent several hours with Kale and Bri on Tuesday afternoon. But every other day found Ed either rushing directly home or else coming to headquarters to continue his investigation.

It worried Roy somewhat. Ed's dedication was certainly noble and he couldn't be faulted for not having a good reason. Al was the most important reason, as far as Ed was concerned, and Roy would never begrudge his son's desire to find his brother. But there was always that chance that this wouldn't pan out.

He wanted it to work. He really did. And he tried hard to believe the words he told his son every time the boy became discouraged or frustrated. _You will find him_. But it was so hard not to doubt and not to worry. Because if Al couldn't be found, or worse, if they discovered that something ill had befallen the younger Elric – Ed would be devastated.

And Roy couldn't bear to imagine his little boy going through that kind of pain.

In that, he was glad Ed had yet to regain all of his memories. As much as he wanted to help his son and to encourage his rediscovery of the past, in certain cases, he believed that the past might be better left in the past.

The night of their fateful transmutation, for example. Or the exact circumstances of Nina Tucker's death. The key ingredient for the formation of a philosopher's stone…

Ed knew bits and pieces about all of these and yet his mind had yet to fill in the gaps. Based on a few discussions with Falman on memory, Roy was fairly certain that the missing parts might be intentionally repressed memories. It was possible that Ed _had _remembered them but then locked them up again because they were too difficult to handle at the time.

Roy was sorely tempted to make use of the reminder effect, which Falman had mentioned. This would mean laying out all the facts for his son, from beginning to end, leaving nothing out. The effect of such an action would be that, in providing Ed with all of the information he was lacking, his mind would stop trying to fill in the blanks. In essence, Ed would know everything he needed to know without actually _remembering_ any of it. And thus his "memory" would be nothing more than a series of facts, a history lesson, with no emotion, no _pain_, attached.

It was tempting – to spare his son the pain and agony of remembering those terrible events. But it wouldn't be fair. Ed wouldn't be satisfied with just a half memory based on what he was told. He would want to know for himself, to be able to check facts against his own knowledge, to be able to translate that blasted travelogue of alchemy notes which Roy couldn't wait to get his own hands on. Besides, in editing the painful and sorrowful memories – they could inadvertently cut out some of the joy-filled memories as well. Roy wanted Ed to have the opportunity to regain as many of those happy memories as he could. Those were the memories that made Ed smile and laugh – with an exuberance he'd never seen from Fullmetal. He wondered if, perhaps, Alphonse was the only one who'd been able to coax those expressions from his brother in the past.

These days, Ed smiled freely and laughed often. His innocent little boy, untouched by the horrors of the world, undimmed by the dark shadows of his past – even now as Ed worked hard to regain his memory, with the determination that was just _Ed _and not dependent on either last name, he was able to _be_ the child he still was.

And Roy was terrified of losing that.

He'd seen it in flashes – the harsh edge of Fullmetal's glare entering into his son's eyes, the sarcastic bite of Edward Elric's tongue – they appeared suddenly and left just as quickly. Ed never commented on it besides a brief apology and Roy never questioned him further. He didn't need to when it was clear, to the boy's former commanding officer, what kind of torment was going on in Ed's mind.

He knew it was selfish to want to keep his little boy a while longer. He knew it was wrong to wish he could put off that time when Ed will decide he doesn't need his father anymore. But that time seemed to be looming over his head, such that he longed to turn back the clock – to wrestle with his ten-year-old, to visit the zoo with his boy-just-turned-seven, to toss his toddler in the air, and cradle his infant in his arms. Those were his precious memories – what he clung to now as the past seem to fleet away even as Ed's past returned.

That was why he'd been more than happy to let Ed go to the theme park with Havoc, today. He'd been anxious to get home and ask his boy all about it – pushing through the last of his paperwork as fast as he could. He wanted to hear about the roller coaster and the other rides. He wanted to know what disgusting fair food Ed had eaten. But mostly, he just wanted to hear about one more day when his boy was still just his little boy.

With that idea in mind, Roy stepped out of the car. He was so lost in thought; he hadn't realized he'd been parked in front of the house for five minutes.

After greeting Riza and eating a quick, late dinner of leftover chicken and rice, he made his way down the hall to where his son's light was still shining through the door that had been left ajar.

"Knock, knock." He announced his presence with a quick rap on the wood before peeking in. Ed was sprawled out on his stomach, across the bed, his socked right foot kicking absently at the headboard while his bare automail leg sprawled beside it. He had a pillow tucked under his arms, propping him up enough to read the book he was holding in his left hand.

"Hey, Dad." The boy said as his father stepped into the room. Ed laid the book down beside him and sat up.

"How was your fun day at the theme park?" Roy smiled as his son's eyes lit up with the pure excitement that only a twelve-year-old boy could possess at the prospect of recounting what was sure to have been an amazing day.

"It's was great! The roller coaster was amazing – I didn't think they could build them that tall! It must've been over twenty-five meters. It took forever to get to the top and then – Whoosh! We were flying and I felt like my brain was gonna rattle right out of my head but it was _so_ cool. I rode it four times. And the ride operator said that the engineers have started making designs for a new roller coaster made out of steel that will be able to go _upside down_! They're talking about putting in flips and barrel-rolls and corkscrews! Of course it's only in the planning stages – but still! Can you imagine?"

Roy chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. Ed's enthusiasm was contagious and he had to admit that he was intrigued by the idea of a coaster going upside down. Would that even be safe? He was sure they'd work out a way to make it so but still – they didn't call them thrill rides for nothing, he supposed. "So did you ride anything _other_ than the roller coaster?"

"Oh, yeah. Lots of stuff. They had a boat ride with these animatronic singing dolls – it was kinda creepy really. The flume was really cool, although my shirt got wet and I had to freeze till it dried. The shows were neat too – acrobats and clowns and, Oh! There was this contortionist – he could fit himself inside a suitcase. It was weird."

"Not _that_ weird. I bet I could fit _you_ inside a suitcase if I really wanted to."

"You had better not be implying what I think you're implying…"

"I don't know what you could possibly mean."

A glare, a smirk, a roll of the eyes – the routine had become so familiar, though it was a far cry from the once popular rants that used to fill his office. Roy wasn't sure if he missed those or not. Not that they _never_ happened. If pushed hard enough, Ed would still go off. Both Havoc and Breda had learned that the hard way earlier in the week. Roy knew he could probably get that effect too, if he really wanted it, but he didn't want to risk spoiling the easy banter they had settled into. Because Ed _knew_ that Roy wasn't saying it to be hurtful or cruel; he _knew_ that his dad was _really_ only teasing and that when it came down to it, anyone who did say something to hurt the boy would find out exactly why his father was called the Flame Alchemist. And Roy didn't take Ed's teasing seriously either. But there was a certain shared nostalgia in those moments – a certain sparkle behind the glare and certain warmth in the smirk – that bespoke of countless moments in both the distant and more recent past.

"So did you ride the Tunnel of Love?"

"Gag! No! Havoc and Charisa did of course but _I_ spent that time eating three hotdogs and a funnel cake."

"On Havoc's tab, I hope."

"Well, of course. He did ask me to hold his stuff while he went on the ride and he told me to get something for myself – never specified how much I could spend."

"And what did you think of Ms. Charisa?"

Ed shrugged. "Meh. She's nice enough, I suppose. I don't really think she right for Uncle Jean though."

Roy eyed the boy, skeptically. "And since when did you become an expert on love."

"I'm not!" Ed was blushing. "I just thought she was a little too… _Oh my goodness! You're even cuter in person than you sounded on the phone! Is that automail? Oh, you poor dear. Whatever happened to you? Can Auntie Charisa get you anything? Maybe we should see if we can take the handicapped entrance – it isn't good for Eddy to stand in line so long. That ride might be a little rough for you. Are you sure you don't want to try the kiddy coaster over there? _– Ugh! Just think, if Uncle Jean marries her I'll have to put up with that all the time!"

"So… in other words, you've decided that Havoc can't marry this woman because she isn't the right kind of Aunt for _you_. What if it's true love?"

"It's not! Trust me! Uncle Jean was annoyed with her too – especially after she offered to find me a wheelchair so that I wouldn't have to walk so much. I think Uncle Jean was offended _for me_ cause he kinda told her off after that. I'm not sure what he said but she left soon after and Uncle Jean and I hit the coaster one more time. Seriously though – Uncle Jean needs someone more like… Mom."

Roy scowled. "She's taken."

"I said _like _Mom. Sheesh, Dad. Don't have a –" Ed yawned widely, interrupting his sentence. "– a cow." He finished.

"Long day, huh?"

"Yeah. But I actually wanna finish reading this before I go to bed." Ed held up the book he'd been reading before Roy came in the room.

"What is it?"

"Al's list."

"Oh?" Roy didn't think he should feel so surprised to see that Ed was reading his brother's writings. Here was the only fragment he had left of someone who had once meant everything to him. But he had thought – hoped maybe – that Ed would avoid that book and thereby avoid the pain that came with it. Only Ed didn't seem upset by it at the moment – as he had been a week ago when they first discovered the book in the box. Rather, Ed had that single-minded look in his eye which indicated that he was on to something.

"Yeah. At the park today, I played a couple of games in the arcade – and there was this one guy there who was charging people to try and crack his code. Anyone who succeeded would get two free tickets to come back to the park another time. Of course, I didn't have any trouble. Poor guy didn't know he was dealing with an alchemist." Ed reached over and swiped two tickets off the bedside table, holding them up proudly, even as Roy pondered at how this story pertained to the notebook. "So guess where you and I are going next time you have a Saturday off?"

"The theme park?"

"Yup! So anyway, on the way home, I got to thinking about the code and then about Al's case file and I thought – what if some of those reports are coded?"

Roy frowned, bewildered. "What?"

"I know! It's a long shot and it probably won't pan-out but what if – what if Al tried to contact us, or me specifically I suppose, years ago but he didn't want to risk his message being heard by the wrong people, so he coded it, knowing that only I would be able to work it out. Only, I don't think Al knows what happened to me, and, of course, I don't remember everything I would need to know to crack a code written by Al. So I'm reading his list, hoping to find some more information or maybe trigger some memory that will help me when I start going back through the reports tomorrow. If there is something hidden in there, I want to know everything I can that will help me catch it."

"That's… not a bad theory actually." Roy concluded. "It won't be easy though. You'll have to go through those reports with a find toothed comb."

"But if there's a chance…"

"Then you have to take it." Roy nodded and reached out to tussle Ed's hair. "Alright, Son. I'll leave you too it. Don't stay up too late though."

"I won't, Dad. Goodnight."

* * *

After his father left, Ed returned to the comfortable position he'd found earlier and turned the book to where he'd left off. Beyond lists of foods he wanted to eat and things he wanted to do, Al had apparently taken to writing down elaborate descriptions of things he'd experienced before he got stuck in the armor. He'd dedicated an entire page to describing the texture of a kitten's fur beneath his fingers, against his cheek, on his lips. He wrote about breathing and the minute details of feeling oxygen filling his lungs. It was almost as though he was trying to capture everything in writing, just in case he ever forgot. Ed wanted to cry when he came to a passage about how much Al missed being able to hug his elder brother without crushing him. He described the warmth of a hug in such incredible detail that Ed was could almost feel his brother there with him, at that very moment, holding him tight. It was a wonder that Al had never expressed interest in becoming a novelist. His prose was simply amazing.

And then Ed turned the page and encountered something entirely new.

It wasn't another list or an intricate depiction of the sensation of snow falling on your nose. It was more like a genuine journal page, filled with thoughts and emotions written in free form – pure stream of consciousness. And the words… what was written there… it was horrifying.

_I didn't plan to write about this but I need to get it out somewhere and I can't tell Brother. He'd only blame himself and that's not what I want. I just need to work through what I'm feeling right now so that it will stop bothering me._

_I've been thinking a lot about pain lately, which is weird considering I haven't actually felt any pain in four years. Brother feels pain all the time. He tries to hide it from me, when he is hurting, but I can always tell. It's in his eyes and the subtle way he shifts his weight to ease the pressure on his automail or his ribs or his back. He's always getting hurt and I hate it because there is nothing that I can do to help him or stop him from throwing himself in harm's way. He always acts like he's supposed to protect me but that's just stupid. I can't get hurt! I can't feel pain! I can take a barrage of bullets and they just bounce right off my armored chest. But Brother… all it would take is one shot. He's so vulnerable and he's always hurting._

_I thought that I'd forgotten what pain felt like. It's been so long – like with so many other things, I only have vague impressions of what those sensations are anymore. But ever since I remembered the Truth- what Brother and I saw on the other side of the gate – I've also been able to remember the pain. I don't know why it's so clear in my mind – perhaps because that's the last thing I ever actually felt. But it's really started bothering me, especially late at night when everyone else is asleep. My mind seems to drift on its own – back to that place, that night._

_We were so blind back then. We knew human transmutation was taboo but we didn't understand why. And we thought that we were so great, so powerful that we could do anything – even bring our mother back from the dead. But we never truly understood Equivalent Exchange._

_At first we were sure that it was working. But then the alchemic energy began to arch. By the time we recognized the rebound, it was too late. I watched in horror as the great eye opened and those black hands rose out of the circle to wrap around my hand. What I felt next – I almost wish I didn't remember. My wrist, my palm, my fingers – they all disintegrated like so many particles of light – and the pain… it was like boiling water, so hot that it feels cold, or ice water which burns. It was like every nerve was suddenly on fire and I could feel it even though it wasn't there. And it happened so fast that my brain could hardly keep up with the signals it was receiving all at once. It was delayed almost and then it flickered in an out as though my mind was trying to compensate by blocking off those nerves only to have the pain push through anyway. It was just too strong._

_Then Brother was screaming and I looked up to see that his leg was gone. But before I could do more than call out to him, I felt more of those hand twining themselves around my body. Then my feet, my other arm, my legs, my chest, my head, my face, were all wrapped in pain so intense that it was almost numbing. Too much, all at once – and I remember wondering, in that small moment just before it all ended, if this was what it felt like to die. _

_And then the pain ended and I was standing in that white expanse. When I was pulled through the gate and I saw the truth and I felt my body unravel a second time – it was different then. There wasn't any pain, or if there was, I was numb to it by then. But my mind felt full, ready to bust from the sheer amount of information being poured inside. I think maybe that is why those memories were locked away for so long. I just couldn't handle so much all at once. _

_But the worst pain – even worse than feeling my body disintegrate – was that choking, gasping, drowning, contorted, broken, torn open feeling I had when, for that brief time, my soul resided within the… thing… that brother and I created. Brother says it wasn't Mother – and for that, I am glad. But, whatever it was, I was a part of it for long enough to know that it was in pain. I'm not sure if it was aware of its own pain or not, but I was aware of it. _

_I suppose it's fitting that my only clear memory of pain is of the pain I caused myself. It's terrifying and it haunts my waking dreams. But if that's the only pain I have to live with, I don't really have the right to complain – not when Brother feels so much pain, almost every day. It's somehow cathartic to write about it though. I feel as though I've finally taken those memories out of my mind and put them somewhere safe so that I can return to them when I need to and not when I least want or expect them._

* * *

Ed did not fall asleep easily, despite his long and exhausting day, and when he finally did it was not to a restful sleep.

_Black hands reached out of an endless abyss, clawing at him, grabbing, snatching, pulling. _

_A white expanse stretched before him, somehow terrifying in its emptiness._

"_Brother!"_

_They knelt within a dim room before a giant transmutation circle, the prepared ingredients waiting in the center – waiting for them to begin._

_A huge door, towering over him, carved with complex alchemic symbols._

"_A rebound? It can't be!"_

"_Bother! No!"_

"_Alphonse! Al!"_

_A grinning silhouette, white and barely visible against the stark background. _

_He dragged himself across the cold, hard floor – desperate to do something, anything to save his little brother._

_A spiral of colors, images, patterns – alchemic code swirling around him – inundating his mind with knowledge he never asked for and truths he never wanted. _

_His leg was gone._

"_Give him back!" _

_Black hands grasped and pulled, taking from him whatever they pleased and whatever he offered._

_He was falling – falling through the eye of truth, into a barrage of knowledge._

_The doors swung open._

_The armor crashed to the floor._

_A smiling face asked what he would offer._

_The scent of blood almost choked him; it's harsh, metallic scent filling his nose._

_The circle danced with alchemic light._

"_I am all, I am one, and I am also you."_

_Blackened skin, bones protruding, yellow eyes, deformed, misshapen, inhuman._

"_You have to let me see it again!"_

"_This isn't what we wanted!"_

_Empty clothes._

"_This is all my fault!"_

_Blood on his hands, on the floor – pouring from his leg, from his arm. _

"_Give him back! He's my brother!" _

"_Al! Alphonse!"_

_The gate opened. The eye opened. Black hands pulled him into the abyss._

"_He's my little brother! He's all I have left!"_

"_Al! Al!"_

"No! Al!"

"Ed! Edward! Wake up, Son! Wake up!"

Ed's eyes snapped open but the visions continued to swim through his mind for several more seconds. He gasped for breath – confused, disoriented – where was he?

Someone was holding him upright, shaking his shoulders. He grasped, desperate for something solid to hang onto, something real, something that wasn't a part of the dream, the nightmare. His body shook as he willed the images to leave his mind. It was no use though. The harder he tried to forget them, the more ardently they lingered in his brain. "Make it stop! Make it go away! Al… please. No…"

He didn't notice the tears streaming down his face anymore than he took note of the arms wrapped securely around his shuddering form, or the second set of hands rubbing soothing circles across his back. He was still lost in the memories – recollections he wished he could shove back into the recesses of his mind and lock away forever. But the box, once opened, could not be closed. Now those memories haunted him as they had so many years ago – memories of a mistake, such a stupid mistake born from arrogance and pride and greed. They had been so selfish, to want back what they had lost and to be foolish enough to try and get it. They had lost everything. Everything was gone. Al was gone. Lost. And his promise was broken. _We didn't want this! I didn't want to lose him. Give him back! He's my little brother! Where is he? Give him back!_

But Alphonse wasn't coming back. He couldn't just clap his hands this time and bind Al's soul to a suit of armor. Wherever he was now – he was seemingly unreachable. And Ed… Ed was all alone.

Except he wasn't. His father was there and his mother. Those were their hands supporting him and caressing him, comforting him as they had done since he was a little child, climbing into their bed after a bad dream. Their familiar, warm, comforting presence soothed his soul. He clung to them and let them ease his fears and took comfort in the fact that he wasn't alone.

No, he wasn't.

But Al was.

It wasn't right. Here he was taking comfort in his loving, caring parents while his little brother was out there somewhere, still, alone. Who was there to comfort him when he was scared? Who was there to tell him it would all be okay? Who was there to take care of him? Nobody! Because his big brother was too busy finding comfort in the arms of his _new_ family.

Ed's parents waited in silence for him to calm down enough to tell them about it. But how could he? How could he tell them anything? They wouldn't understand. Only Al could understand this. And he didn't deserve it anyway. He didn't deserve to have them comfort him and to provide that careful ear to hear about all his problems. He didn't deserve to sleep in a comfortable bed when Al couldn't sleep at all and spent his long night pondering the realities of pain. He didn't deserve to eat home cooked meals when Al had a whole list of things he'd been waiting sixteen years to try. He didn't deserve warm hugs and love and laughter and fun and friends. He didn't deserve to go to school and have a _normal _childhood. He didn't deserve a father who stays and chooses to be with him. He didn't deserve a _mother_.

It was his fault - all his fault. And they couldn't possibly understand. They would tell him it wasn't true, try to make him forget his guilt. But they didn't _know_. They weren't there. They didn't see what he did.

He pulled away from his father's arms and moved beyond the reach of his mother's hands. He couldn't let them help him – he couldn't accept it even as it was freely given. Equivalent Exchange – he couldn't accept what he didn't deserve.

"Ed, are you alright?" His father's voice reached his ears but he didn't look up to meet those dark eyes. He nodded mutely.

"Was it a nightmare?" Another nod.

"A memory?" He didn't respond.

"What was it, Son? What did you remember?"

He needed to respond – to say something. They weren't going to leave until he did and he didn't – he _couldn't _have them there. It was so much more than he ought to have.

"I don't know." He lied. "I can't remember."

The room was silent for several moments. His parents didn't move or say anything. Ed sat still, absently clenching his fist within the folds of his crumpled comforter. They weren't moving. He needed them to go.

"I'm okay now. You should go back to bed. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Ed –" his father began and then stopped abruptly. Another silent moment passed and then his parents shifted off the bed, standing up. "Alright. Try to go back to sleep, Son. We'll see you in the morning."

Ed nodded and waited for them to leave. When the door was closed, the room became dark – only a sliver of light fell through the gap between his curtains, cast by the lamp out front by the street. He didn't move to lie down or to get up. For the longest time, he just sat there, as his mind continued to play through the horrors he'd seen in his dream.

He wanted, so badly, to believe that it had only been a dream – a nightmare. But he knew, through its clarity and a certain sense of correctness, that it was a true memory – a horrible reality that he couldn't escape. He was lost within the certainty of what he had done.

Half an hour passed and the clock in above the mantle in the living room struck four. Muted by the walls, the sound barely reached his ears but somehow it managed to draw him out of himself – back into the present moment. And there he was, in his bed, in a room he had slept in for twelve years, surrounded by his clothes and toys – countless gifts from birthdays and solstice celebrations – things he had received without giving anything in return.

"They're not mine." He whispered, breaking the silence. "None of this is mine. I didn't earn it. I don't deserve it. This room, this home, this family – I shouldn't have any of it." Suddenly, his thoughts became clear. "I don't belong here."

His parents were surely asleep again by now. The house was still and quiet. He needed to be careful not to wake them, but he needed to move quickly. Surely they still ran the early train. It left at five. He could make it if he hurried.

Standing up, he dressed himself in casual clothes – nothing fancy, nothing expensive. Then he dumped out his school bag and started filling it with the few things he felt were truly his own – his travelogue, his pocket watch, his red coat, Al's journal, his clothes from before – they were too big, but he would grow into them. He grabbed a few other clothing items – a change of socks and underwear – and a small photo of him and his parents from his desk. It wasn't really his – but he wanted something and he didn't think it'd be missed. Maybe that was too selfish but he didn't have time to argue with himself about it. He reached under his bed for the box he used to store what money he had saved over the years. He'd earned some of it doing little chores around the neighborhood. The rest was given to him as gifts. There was no way he could sort through all the cens and determine how much of it was and wasn't his. He took it all. No one would expect it back anyway.

As he stood and looked around his room, his eyes fell upon the miniature suit of armor still on his bedside table. He felt a twist in his chest as he realized that he was going to have to leave it behind. It was too big to fit in his bag and it wouldn't make sense to carry the figure through town and on the train.

"It's not really Al, anyway." He gulped back the lump in his throat and shouldered his bag. After taking one last look around the room he slipped out the door and into the hallway. His gaze drifted to the closed door of his parent's bedroom and his chest tightened. He didn't want to leave them. He didn't want to lose them. It hurt too much. But he couldn't stay. They weren't his. He didn't deserve them.

It would hurt them. He knew that. But they would be okay without him. They were okay before they had him, so they would be okay again.

"I'm sorry." His voice was barely a whisper. "I can't stay here. I just don't belong anymore."

He turned and moved silently down the hallway, through the living room, out the door, and down the street. He didn't stop. He didn't look back.


	16. in which there is no home to return to

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** Wow! A whole chapter with no Ed POV. Roy and Winry kind of took over. Riza was supposed to have her say in this one too but you'll have to wait for the next chapter for that. Lots of Parental!Riza fluff coming up. I know a lot of you have been waiting for that. Anyway, I made a little cover art last night because I was bored. I didn't draw any of it. My art skills are limited to finding images on Google and layering them using Word and Paint. I have to use both or I can't get it to work right. Yup! I am just that much of a digital art noob. Anyway, I thought it turned out pretty cool, but I'm still on the lookout for a replacement cause I know someone out there can do a better job than me.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 16, in which there is no home to return to**

Useless.

Roy hated feeling useless in any situation but now… it was devastating. For the first time in his life he didn't have a clue what he should do, an inkling as to how he should act, or even a crazy idea that might not work but was worth trying anyway. Always before, he'd been able to see the paths set out before him – various options with a hundred possible solutions to every problem.

He could see nothing now – nothing beyond an empty bed, in an empty room.

His son was gone.

Where? He didn't know. There was no note, no clue, no indication of where or when or why the boy had left. The only warning he'd had was that terrible look in Ed's eyes the night before – the same look he had hoped never to see again.

He hadn't wanted to leave his son there, alone in his room in the aftermath of whatever nightmare had set him screaming, drawing Roy and his wife from their own slumbers. Ed said he didn't remember the dream but Roy wasn't sure he believed that. The boy had been too distressed and his eyes too haunted. Roy had his own theories as to what the dream had been about and the terrified words, which had issued from his son's mouth during the night terror, had narrowed those theories down to that one horrible moment from his past – the moment that had irrevocably changed the lives of two little boys and set them on a path wrought with danger.

Whether or not Ed actually _did_ remember the dream, it had surely affected him. It was evident to Roy in how the boy had pulled away from him the night before. It was like Ed was cutting himself off from them, closing up and shutting down. The eyes, which refused to meet his own, had not reflected that light and innocence Roy had seen the previous evening, vibrant with excitement over roller coasters and hot dogs. They had lost that determined fire he was so fond of, leaving them empty and cold – lost.

Roy had not wanted to leave, but Riza had gently urged him to give Ed his space. Her advice had made sense at the time. After all, if Ed _had_ remembered what Roy was almost certain he had, there was no way that _Fullmetal_ would want them hovering. Ed, in the past, had been very private about his memories and about the terrors which haunted his dreams. Only Alphonse had ever been privy to those things, having experienced them as well and being Ed's only true confidant.

So it had seemed wise to leave him be and wait for the boy to come to them. And after the closeness they had shared over the past week, Roy had thought for sure that Ed _would_ come when he was ready.

He certainly hadn't expected to open the door to an empty room late on Sunday morning. He hadn't planned the frantic search of the house, the yard, the neighborhood, the park. He'd been halfway to the library before he remembered that it was closed on Sundays. He'd pounded on the doors of his friend's houses – neither Brianna Knox nor Kale Turring had seen Ed since school on Friday. His quick stop at the Hughes' had only served to worry Gracia and Elicia. After exhausting every other option and wracking his brain for another possible place his son could be hiding, Roy had trudged home to discover his wife placing quick and efficient phone calls to everyone they knew, asking if anyone had seen Ed without actually revealing that he was missing – she had always been good at extracting the information she needed from people without giving away anything herself.

Roy had stood about helplessly for several minutes, listening to her cool and professional voice, until his feet carried him down the hallway and into his son's empty room. He found himself sitting on the bed with mini-Al propped up on his knees. He gazed at the tiny helmet, hoping that somehow the figuring could give him the answers he was looking for.

"Where did he go, Alphonse? Where is your brother?"

It occurred to him, then, that perhaps Ed had gone searching for Alphonse. Perhaps he had found some clue to his brother's disappearance and had gone to find him. "But he would have told us, wouldn't he? He'd have gotten our help."

A quick search of the room had revealed several missing items – some clothes, the cens Ed stored in a box under the bed, the journals he and Al had kept before, his red coat, his pocket watch. Roy had noted with a touch of concern that nothing Ed had taken, beyond a few extra clothes, could really have been defined as belonging to Ed Mustang. They were Fullmetal's things. But surely Ed knew better than to try and don that persona once more – Roy had made it clear how dangerous it could be should the wrong people find out who he was.

"Why would he leave , though? Where would he go? This is his home." Movement by the door caught his eye and Roy looked up to see Riza standing there. "Anything?"

She shook her head and stepped further into the room. Sitting beside him on the bed, she hung her head sadly. "I'm sorry." She wasn't just talking about her failure to find anything through her phone calls. It was subtle, but Roy could tell what she was truly feeling guilty for.

"It's not your fault. We both chose to leave the room last night. We couldn't have known that he was planning this. I'm not even sure he did plan it. He was so distraught – it was likely a spontaneous decision." He swallowed hard against the emotion he wasn't sure how to define.

He'd never felt so useless before in his life.

* * *

The sun had just started its dissent into the west when Winry set out towards the graveyard. Spring had come early in Resembool, as it so often did, and, while the nights were still cool, the days were pleasant. The mechanic had foregone her jacket in favor of enjoying the light breeze against her skin. She was wearing a pretty spring dress and matching hat. In her arms, she carried a small bouquet of flowers. It was her grandmother's birthday. Even though Granny Pinako was no longer with her, Winry still liked to acknowledge the day and honor the woman who had practically raised her and taught her everything she knew.

As her feet carried her along the familiar path, she allowed her thoughts to wander to the gold band on her left hand. It wasn't anything big and fancy. She hadn't wanted to worry about damaging it during her work. It was simple, yet elegant, and perfect. _I have so much to tell you, Granny!_ She thought with a smile.

Everything was going so well. Her business was thriving. She had tons of friends supporting her both in Resembool and in Rush Valley. And now, she was getting married! Jason was strong and handsome but also kind and generous. He'd been her assistant for three years and they'd known each other for five – ever since Winry, herself, built the automail foot to replace the one he'd lost in a motorcycle accident. Of course, the accident hadn't made him any less likely to ride the speed machine. He loved that old thing. Winry enjoyed going for a spin as well but she liked taking in apart and putting it back together even more. Jason's love for machines was just another thing they had in common and his experience working on the bike, in addition to his medical studies, had made him an ideal assistant when she went looking. _Who would've thought that I would end up with a husband when all was said and done? Guess I'll be Winry Rinehart soon. _She giggled. _I'll have to keep the family name for the business though. We're too well known to change it now and I think Granny would be upset if I did – it was her business after all._

She stopped at the top of the hill that was home to all of Resembool's sons and daughters who had gone before. The sky was changing colors in the distance, a smattering of clouds creating elegant breaks in the sun's rays. _It really is a perfect day. Resembool has so many days like this. It'll be a perfect place to raise children. I certainly had fun growing up here – running around all the time, chasing after Ed and Al. _

The smile slipped from her face as her two childhood friends entered her thoughts. So much had changed since those happy days. Her once best friends had faced so many trials – and for what? Al was gone and Ed… Ed was a child again, with no memories of the past, of her, of his brother. She supposed, at least, he'd finally gotten the break he deserved. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of all he'd lost, but at least he was happy now.

Just a few months ago he'd come to Resembool for his second automail surgery, believing it was only his first, and that little boy had faced it so bravely. He'd possessed that same determination she'd once seen in him long ago, but without the pain and guilt that had driven him before to push harder and faster than he should, to put himself in danger time and again. Now he was innocent and pure and happy, only pursuing automail for the sake of his own desires and dreams. He endured it because he wanted it, not because he felt that he _had _to.

She'd been calling the Mustang home weekly, for updates on his rehabilitation. More often than not, she had spoken to Riza who kept her abreast of all Ed's improvements and difficulties. Winry had been worried when she first learned of Ed's personal workout routine but she had to admit that building his general body strength would be very beneficial to his recovery. He just needed to be careful about it and not do too much. When she finally did speak to the boy himself, earlier that week, he'd sounded enthusiastic about his own level of improvement and he insisted that he was taking care not to put too much stress on his automail. It had been a brief conversation, but the smile she'd heard in his voice had kept her from saying anything to discourage the boy's personal rehabilitation program.

She had to admit that she was happy for Ed, in all that he'd gained. But she did miss the boy who had once been her best friend. She'd even go so far as to say she'd loved him once – her first crush, as it were – but that dream had ended not long after it had begun. Now it was something that could never be – not with the years between them. She had Jason now and she could only hope that if _her_ Ed and Al were here now, they would be happy for her too.

Winry had just stepped forward to enter the graveyard, when her hat was snatched off her head by a sudden gust of wind. She spun, frantically, to catch it before it carried too far. Fortunately, the thieving breeze dropped her hat not too far away. She marched over to pick it up and stood, brushing off the invisible particles that had attached themselves to the felt. She adjusted her hat back on her head but as she looked up, something odd caught her eye in the distance.

There was a hill, farther on – one she had seen nearly every day of her life. There had once been a house on that hill, but now there was only a small pile of moss-covered rocks, as the more organic remains had rotted away over the years, and that still, old tree which stood like a silent sentinel over the place. It stood there now, as it always had, watching over the ruins, keeping guard over that place of haunted memory.

But something was different.

Winry squinted against the pink and golden light which seemed to taunt her efforts purposefully. She was sure she had seen something though. _There!_

She could just make out the form, almost lost in the shadows next to the tree. But a shock of golden blond hair stood out against the dark background and a glint of metal, where a hand should be, caught in the fading light.

_Automail. _She would recognize it anywhere. And that form – so small, with that hair… _it couldn't be…_

The mechanic left her flowers by the gate and set off towards the other hill at a run. It didn't make any sense but she couldn't have mistaken that silhouette. She knew that boy as surely as she knew herself. _But what is he doing here? Better question – what is he doing there?_

Because Ed Mustang had no reason to be on _that_ hill. He had no knowledge, no memory of that place or its significance. Was it simply a coincidence then?

She was out of breath by the time she reached the neighboring hill. She had to stop at the bottom and wait for her heart to slow down a bit. Then she started up the hill at a slower pace. She didn't want to startle the boy but she was worried about him. As she climbed, she looked about, hoping to catch sight of Roy or Riza. Surely they would be nearby, somewhere. Ed wasn't a little child anymore and maybe once upon a time he had traveled alone to far off places, but that was before. Ed had been fairly sheltered these past twelve years and Winry just couldn't imagine Roy and Riza letting him come so far from home by himself.

When she reached the top of the hill, she paused. There he was, no longer standing. He was sitting at the base of the sentinel tree, his knees tucked up against his chest and his face turned down into his crossed arms. But there was no denying that it was him. Even from a distance she recognized her work in his automail hand.

"Ed?" she called across the way, before she came to close. Even so, he jumped at the sound of her voice. When he looked up, clearly startled by her presence, Winry noticed the red flush of his cheeks, the puffiness around his eyes, and the streak of tears. Her breath caught in her throat. _He's crying?_ Ed never cried. Even during the pain of his automail surgery, when tears leaked from his eyes against his will, he had put on a brave face and not allowed himself to break down. Now… they weren't tears of physical pain. His eyes were haunted by a darkness she had not seen since long ago. It frightened Winry because she couldn't imagine what new horror had come into his life to bring that sorrow. _No… not now. He doesn't deserve anymore pain. Why can't he just be happy? Roy… Riza… did something happen? Oh, please let them be alright…_

Ed's eyes fell on her and widened. "Winry…" She couldn't really hear her name, but she recognized the movement of his lips. Then he looked away and wiped his sleeve across his face. That was more like him. He never wanted anyone to see his tears. Seeing that stubborn act gave Winry the courage she needed to step forward, to face whatever had happened, and to help him in whatever way he could.

"Ed, what happened? Why are you here in Resembool?" She moved in close and knelt next to the boy. She reached out, to place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away. "Ed? What's wrong?"

He didn't respond. He didn't even look at her. His gaze drifted away to stare blankly at the ruins of the home he didn't remember. It still baffled Winry, that he would be here of all places. What had drawn him there? Was it some sort of subconscious pull that brought him to this place in his distress? And what had happened to cause that distress?

"Please, Ed." She prompted. "Let me help you. Your parents… are they here? Did something happen, Ed?"

No response.

"Ed, I need to know. Are your parents okay? Are they…" she couldn't voice the possibility. She couldn't bear to even think it – that Ed could lose them… they were everything to him.

But he shook his head, so quickly that Winry almost missed it. "They're fine." He finally muttered. "They're home."

The tight hold of fear in her chest released her suddenly, almost leaving her winded. She opened her mouth to ask another question but he cut her off.

"I'd… really rather be alone right now, Winry." He rubbed absently at his right shoulder and refused to meet her gaze. She couldn't help but wonder if his port was bothering him and she made a note to check it while he was here. _Just as soon as I figure out what's going on._

"Just tell me what's going on, Ed. Are you hurt? Why are you crying?"

"I'm _not_ crying!" He finally looked up as he shouted and the look in his eyes startled Winry more than anything else had that evening. He looked… like Ed – but not Ed Mustang. He looked like Edward Elric – just like little Edward Elric stubbornly denying his tears and his pain.

"_I won't cry… how can I? How can I, when Al can't?" _

Winry couldn't say she knew very well what to expect from Ed Mustang. But she did know Edward Elric and she knew what that look meant. He _was _hurting – but not from any physical pains. The hurt he felt came from deep within. It was the pain of extreme guilt the likes of which only someone as stubborn and foolhardy as Edward Elric could conjure up within himself. And while Ed Mustang certainly had the capacity and potential to be all of those things, Winry couldn't fathom what could have caused this level of shame within such a sweet and innocent boy.

Nevertheless, Winry knew better than to try and push him when he got like this. He wasn't going to let go of that guilt easily and he certainly wasn't about to tell her what was going on. She needed backup.

Standing slowly, she offered her hand to the boy on the ground. "Alright, you don't have to tell me. Just come back with me to the house. It's getting late."

He shook his head and then returned his gaze to the ruins. "I'm fine here."

It was a tough call. Insisting that he come might mean starting a fight which would not end well for either of them. On the other hand, she couldn't bring herself to leave a twelve-year-old boy out alone on a hill all night. "I'm making chicken curry for dinner." She offered, hoping the boy's bottomless stomach might convince his brain. "Don't you want some?"

"I'm not hungry."

He really was being stubborn this time. "Please Ed." She tried once more. "I know it's warm out now but it'll get cold as soon as the sun sets. You can't stay out here all night."

Instead of responding, Ed reached into the bag which was resting on the ground beside him. Winry hadn't noticed it before. When he sat back, he was holding a small, red bundle in his arms. The mechanic frowned. There was something familiar about the cloth.

"I'll be fine with this." Ed finally told her. Then he took hold of the edge of the cloth and shook it out.

Winry's eyes flew open wide as she recognized the red cloak, it's familiar, black symbol still embroidered on the back. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart thudded in her chest. _How…_

She needed help. She didn't know where he had gotten that coat or how he even knew about it – _how much does he know about it? _– but she knew this was not something she was prepared to handle on her own.

"A-alright, Ed." She forced herself to speak, making up her plan as she went. "I'm gonna go back to the house but I'll be back to check on you soon." She'd have to bring him some food too. He had to be hungry, regardless of what he said. "Just… promise me you'll stay here. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

He didn't say anything at first. His eyes lingered over the lengthening shadows cast by the rocks and rubble which littered the ground atop the hill. He didn't look at her. He didn't even acknowledge her words. Winry had no choice but to take his silence as an affirmative answer. It didn't make sense to linger, waiting for a promise which might not ever come.

She turned to leave and started off, back down the hill, only pausing for a moment when his whispered words caught her ear.

"Where else would I go? This was my home."

* * *

Roy had been sitting by the phone for much of the afternoon – when he wasn't out running another search of the neighborhood, hoping to catch something he hadn't before, hoping maybe he'd missed something the second and third and fourth time he searched. It was evening now and the sun was setting, taking with it what little warmth had built up around Central City during the day. The radio was calling for another cold night.

Thoughts raced through Roy's mind – questions, worries. _Is he hurt? Is he safe? Is he warm? Is he hungry? Where will he sleep? _They weren't questions he felt any father should ever have to ask about his son. He'd certainly never had to ask them before. Ed had always been safe at home when night fell, or else spending the night with a trusted friend. The logical part of his brain told him that Ed had spent countless nights on his own before, as a State Alchemist and even before that, when he and Alphonse had lived alone after their mother died. The boy had street smarts ingrained within his very being, survival skills too, although Roy had never found out where Fullmetal learned how to start a fire and hunt and cook – probably from the same person who taught him how to fight. There was that too. Ed could fight. Even though he was still in the process of relearning much of what he'd once know, he was still far ahead of most people.

But… he was still Roy's son and the part of his heart and mind that had been set apart during those first few weeks with his infant child, that had developed and formed as his boy had grown, still saw Ed as that little boy – lost and afraid in the big, cold world, with threats baring down upon him from known and unknown enemies.

It was his fear of those enemies which had kept Roy from calling the military police and reporting that his son was missing. If the wrong people found out – if Ed's name, if Ed's face started appearing in the newspaper and on milk cartons – then he'd be in even more danger than he was in now. And so, all Roy could do was sit and wait for more information.

They were waiting for a call from the train station. After searching every possible place where Ed might hide in the Central, Riza had suggested that perhaps their son had left the city. Unfortunately, the train station had rules and regulations about releasing passenger information without a proper warrant. Neither of their ranks could bypass those rules if they refused to actually report Ed missing. It had taken them some time to get in touch with a station master who knew them and knew Ed and was willing to help them out. But he couldn't go and check the manifests from that morning until his break.

Riza had already packed a few bags, just in case. If they received word that Ed _had_ left the city, they were determined to follow him on the next available train. But Roy was impatient and restless and worried. He couldn't sit still. He felt the need to be doing _something_.

"Eat." His wife said suddenly, offering him a sandwich on a plate. It occurred to Roy, only then, that he hadn't eaten anything all day. Nevertheless, he didn't feel hungry, In fact, he felt just the opposite. His stomach was rolling with restless nerves and he didn't think it would be a good idea to eat anything.

"Thank you, but no. I can't eat right now."

Riza frowned. "Roy, you need to –"

The phone rang.

Roy pickup the receiver before it could ring a second time. "Mustang." He answered shortly.

"Roy?" a familiar female voice came through the line. "It's Winry."

The General let out a frustrated breath and shook his head to answer Riza's questioning glance. "Yes, Winry. I'm sorry, would you mind calling back another time? Ed isn't here right now and – "

"I know! He's here!"

I took a moment for Roy's brain to catch up to her words after the interruption. "Wait. He's there?! With you in Resembool?"

"Well, not _with me_ exactly, at the moment. But he is here in Resembool. I found him up on the hill by his old house. I don't – I'm not sure what's going on. He's upset but he won't talk to me."

"Is he safe? He's not hurt is he?" Roy jumped to the most important questions. Beside him, Riza was leaning close to listen.

"Yes, he's safe. I had to leave him on the hill to call you because he wouldn't come with me, but I don't think he's going anywhere. He said…" she paused for a moment, then seemed to change her mind about what she was going to say. "He had his red coat," she said softly. "I don't understand. Why would he have that? Does he…"

"He remembers." Roy answered her unspoken question. Ed had said he wanted to wait and tell her himself but the situation had changed and assuring that his son was safe with someone who knew what was going on was Roy's priority. "Rather, I should say that he's been remembering things for some time now. He doesn't know everything yet. We think he remembered something traumatic last night which prompted him to run away. We've been searching for him all day."

Winry didn't respond at first. "Wow…" she breathed after a moment. "That explains a lot. What do you want me to do?" she asked, getting back to business. That was good. Roy knew he could trust the mechanic to take care of Ed until they got there.

"We'll be on the next train to Resembool. Do you think you can get him to go to your house?"

"I can try…" she answered hesitantly. "But I'm not sure what the best approach would be. Am I… I mean, is he… is he Ed or _Ed_?"

"Both." Roy wasn't sure how else to explain – he wasn't even sure about it himself. Ed was Ed, whether he was acting like a Mustang or and Elric at any given moment. And most of the time, it didn't really matter. The differences were usually subtle and Roy was learning how to flow with them as Ed did. Most often, the boy didn't even seem to realize when he was acting more like one or the other and it didn't seem necessary to make a big deal out of it. Roy knew how to pass banter back and forth with Fullmetal just as well as he knew when to offer a hug or a proud smile to his boy. Ed truly was becoming both. He wasn't _just _Roy's boy any more. But he wasn't _just_ Fullmetal either. It was more that he was _Roy's Fullmetal_ and usually he was content to figure out what that meant a little bit at a time.

Now though, with the sensitive state Ed seemed to be in, they needed to tread carefully. They didn't know what was going on in Ed's mind, what had prompted him to go to Resembool in the first place, and what might set him running again. But without being there and seeing his son, Roy couldn't really say what the best approach might be.

"I'm honestly not sure what would work best with him right now. He's been a bit… unpredictable when his emotions are high. Just try your best, but don't push him to hard. At the very least, make sure he _stays _in Resembool. We'll be there soon."

"I can do that." Winry responded more confidently. Roy could almost hear the gears working in her head devising a plan to get the boy to come inside for the night or, failing that, tying him to a tree to keep him from leaving. "I'll see if I can get him to eat something, too. I'm not sure how long he's been out there – the train came in at three, so a few hours probably. I'm sure he's hungry. Don't worry, Roy. I'll take care of him."

"I know. Thank you, Winry. We really appreciate this."

"Don't thank me." She brushed aside his words modestly. "This is Ed. I would do anything for him."

"I know, but still…" He didn't need to say it again. She knew how grateful he was. "We'll be there in the morning."

"See you then. Have a safe trip."

* * *

It was hard not to be frustrated with Ed. Now that they knew he was safe and with people they could trust, now that the worry and desperation had settled, Roy couldn't help but feel anger towards the boy for his foolhardy and impulsive actions.

Oh, Roy knew well that Ed was dealing with a lot of repressed memories coming to light and all the wild emotions that went with them. He knew that there would be repercussions and sensitive periods after certain facts were brought out into the open. He knew that Ed's tendency would likely be to bottle it all up and try to handle it himself. Roy had prepared himself for those things. He had planned to be right there, supporting his son, lending his comfort and strength, and knocking down those walls when he needed to because the boy was too stubborn for his own good.

But he'd never planned for the possibility that Ed would run.

_How could he make us worry like this? All that running around, frantic phone calls, desperate searching – while he's off in Resembool, moping like a lost puppy. I don't care what he did or didn't remember. Why couldn't he just _think_ for once in his life and let someone help him? Why does he have to be so stubborn? _

The train jostled suddenly as it went over a rough spot on the tracks and Roy had to clutch the arm rest to keep from falling over in his seat. Beside him, Riza was resting her eyes though Roy was sure that she wasn't asleep.

_And to top it all off we had to get coach seats on this forsaken train for an overnight trip. I'm stressed, tired, and sore. That boy had better have a damned good excuse for putting us through all of this. _

It was almost seven when the train finally pulled into the Resembool station. Grabbing their bags, the couple hurried off the train, glad that they were the only ones getting off at this stop and would not have to wait for anyone else to depart. Roy and Riza knew better than to look for a cab – this was Resembool; they would be walking. The path was old and long and Roy did not appreciate the hike. He was too exhausted to take note of the blue skies or the warm breeze or the rolling hills. He just wanted to get his son and go home.

They still didn't know whether or not Winry had succeeded at getting Ed to go inside last night. For all Roy knew, the boy hadn't moved all night and could still be sitting by the old Elric House. Thankfully, the path which led to the Elric Home diverged from the main path about half a mile before the Rockbell house. They would likely be able to see if there was anyone there or not from the road.

As they came around the bend, however, Roy found that they wouldn't have to look for anyone. Winry was waiting at the bottom of the hill, just where the path began to fork. She was sitting on an old blanket, looking tired and worn, when they arrived, but she stood when she saw them approaching.

"You're here." She offered a wan smile which Riza returned. Roy didn't bother with the plesentries.

"Where is he?"

The mechanic sighed and tilted her head towards the hill. "Up there. He hasn't moved all night. Jason and I took turns keeping watch. He wouldn't listen to either of us. Stopped responding altogether at one point. I… think I may have made it worse when I told him that I knew he got his memories back." She confessed. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Winry." Riza responded. "The important thing is that he's safe. Thank you for looking after him."

Winry shook her head. "I already told Roy – you don't have to thank me. Ed's family to me, no matter what, and that makes you guys family too. I don't turn my back on family."

Roy didn't hear anymore. He had already started up the path which would lead him to his son. The women would follow shortly.

The first thing he spotted, when he reached the top of the hill, was the tree. Then he saw the boy sitting at its base and began stomping towards it. He felt furious yet relieved at the same time. It was an odd dichotomy.

He marched right up to the tree but, even before the boy noticed he was there, Roy had to stop and turn around, his anger derailed by confusion. He frowned at the pile of old, moss covered rubble before him while his mind traveled back in time, to the last time he'd climbed this hill.

There had been a house there. Of course there had. He'd gone in, with his Lieutenant, and discovered the remains of a horrific transmutation. From there he had gone to the Rockbell house, to meet the Elric brothers: Alphonse, trapped in a suit of armor, and Ed, who would one day be his son. But in all the time that had passed since that day, Roy had no recollection of ever learning about the destruction of Ed and Al's old home.

"What happened to the house?" he muttered, more to himself than to Ed. He didn't expect the answer that came.

"We burned it down."

Roy turned and had to freeze again. It was like seeing a ghost. Ed stood there, next to the tree, staring blankly at the remains of what had once been his home. He was dressed in black, his hands shoved into his pockets, his too-long-too-short hair unkempt, and over it all he wore his red coat. It was still too big for him but for some reason that failed to make him look silly as it had when he'd donned for the first time just a week ago. Now the size only served to add to the completely defeated air that seemed to linger about the child.

"What?" Having been distracted by this specter of the past that was his son, Roy had forgotten his previous question and his mind was still catching up with the answer.

"We burned it down." Ed reiterated. Roy was struck by how detached the boy's voice sounded as he spoke of the act of violence against his own house. Then Ed pulled his automail hand out of his pocket. He was holding a small object which he fiddled with until, a moment later, the lid flipped open and Roy recognized the object as Ed's pocket watch.

"Don't Forget. Ten. Three. Eleven. It's the day we burned our house down as a sign that there was no turning back. I didn't remember until I got here and realized that there was no home for me to come back to."

"No home…" Roy repeated the words softly and they lingered in the air for a moment, almost tangible between them. And then those words came crashing down around them and Roy scowled as their meaning truly sunk in. "Home? You think this is home? That's why you came all the way out here then? You thought you were going home?" His anger returned suddenly and his voice began to rise. "You idiot! Don't be a fool! Your home is in Central with me and your mother! Do you have any idea how worried we've been? You think you can just run off in the middle of the night and expect us to be okay with it? We spent hours scouring the city for you! We called everyone we know trying to find you. Everyone is worried about you. And then we get a call from Winry telling us that you're here! In Resembool! What the hell were you thinking?"

Ed didn't respond. His jaw was set stubbornly and his eyes were fixed firmly on the ground. This only angered Roy all the more. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Edward Mustang!"

A moment later, Roy wished he could take it back because the eyes that looked into his were eyes he had never wanted to see again. They were the eyes of a boy who'd lost everything, the eyes of a child with who'd seen death. They were hopeless and heartless. Roy hadn't realized that gold could be so dark, so dull, so lifeless.

There was no fire.

It was gone – snuffed out. And suddenly Roy wanted nothing more than to find a way to reignite that flame. He was tempted to try snapping his fingers but he knew that wouldn't work. _I can control all the fires of the world accept for the fire in _his_ soul._

It couldn't just be gone. There had to be a way to get it back. Because that fire had taken with it the spark of joy and love and innocence which was so precious, so perfect… it couldn't be gone.

Roy backtracked desperately, hoping to rekindle the flame before it was too late. "Ed… I'm sorry, Son." He stepped forward and reached out, but hesitated to touch. "I shouldn't have yelled. I've just been so _worried_, but that's no excuse. I can't say I know how hard this is for you but, Son, you have to know that I'm here for you and your mother is too. Everything is going to be alright." Then he placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and drew him forward.

"No!" Ed pulled away and stepped back. "Stop it. I don't want you to comfort me." The words were hard, cold – but not angry. He sounded empty. "I'd rather you just stay mad at me."

"No, Ed. I'm not mad. I'm just upset and tired and I'm sure you are too. Let's just go to Winry's house and we can talk about this."

Ed shook his head fiercely. "I'm not going. I don't want to talk about anything. If you're not going to yell at me then just go. You don't need to be here."

No emotion came through his words – nothing to indicate what was going on in his head or why he felt the need to cut himself off so thoroughly. Roy couldn't believe what he was hearing – the choices his son had presented him with: either to yell or to go. Neither was something that Roy was willing to do.

"I'm not going to yell at you, Ed." He said firmly. "But I'm not leaving you here either."

For a moment it seemed as though Ed wasn't going to argue. For a moment, he seemed to accept the reality of the situation. The boy sighed heavily and then picked up his bag and shouldered it and Roy thought he was getting ready to come with him.

"Fine…" His voice sounded so defeated but at least he'd stopped being stubborn. "I'll leave then. There's nothing here for me anyway."

It wasn't until Ed's form took several paces in the wrong direction, his red coat billowing out behind him, that Roy realized what was going on. Ed was running away again.

_Not while I'm here_. Roy thought firmly. "Edward, stop!" He moved to follow but froze as a loud clap sounded in his ears. Then the ground began to shake and a flash of alchemic light accompanied a thick wall which rose up out of the ground between the father and son.

It was only five feet tall. Roy could easily see over it and he watched as Ed stood up straight and brushed the dirt off his hands. The boy looked up but there was no victory in his eyes – no cocky smirk to accompany is incredible use of alchemic power. He could transmute without a circle again… but he didn't care. It meant nothing more to him then a tool he could use to separate himself from his father – an act which brought no satisfaction, no sense of accomplishment. It was empty.

"Please… don't follow me."

Then he turned and set off down the opposite side of the hill.

It took Roy several moments to shake off the shock of seeing Ed use alchemy without a transmutation circle. And then his hands were on the wall and he was hoisting himself up, prepared to jump it, prepared to run after his son.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to see Winry, with Riza standing just behind her. The younger girl shook her head and offered a sad smile. "He won't go far."

Roy frowned. He didn't understand and he didn't have time for this. He needed to go after his son. But she wouldn't release him and he couldn't get the right angle to swing himself over the wall without hurting her.

"There's only one place he could go in that direction – everything else is just hills and trees."

She sounded so sure and, quite frankly, Roy wasn't sure he was ready for another confrontation with those empty eyes. He needed a break, to regroup his thoughts and find another approach. He'd messed up this time. He didn't want to make the same mistake twice. It really would be better to give Ed some space for awhile – if only he was sure they would be able to find him when it was time to try again.

"You know where he's going?"

Winry nodded. "He's going to the graveyard."


	17. in which he kneels before the grave

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. **I took two days off from writing. With only 10,000 words left to write I figured I could afford a little break. Besides, I really needed to regroup my thoughts on this. Two reasons. First, this is my Riza chapter. After several requests asking for more Riza and also the realization that, as Ed's mother, she really does need to play a bigger part – I determined that this would be the perfect place for her to step in and have a heart-to-heart with her son. Unfortunately, I still do not feel confident in writing Hawkeye's character. I haven't been able to play the whole seen out in my head yet so I'm going into this chapter with only a vague idea of how it's going to play out. We'll see, I guess. The other reason is Baymax. Yeah, _Big Hero 6_ kinda took over my brain for a little while. I had to go watch _Sacred Star of Milos_ to get back on track with FMA. All I have to say now is Badaladaladala.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 17, in which he kneels before the grave**

Resembool was truly a beautiful place. Riza had only visited the town twice before – the first time, years ago when she and then-Lieutenant Colonel Mustang had first discovered two boys who would end up having such a profound effect on their lives. The second time had been less than four months ago, when she had journeyed there with her husband and son so that Ed could finally get automail for, what he later learned, was the second time in his life. On both of these previous trips, Riza had found herself drawn to Resembool's provincial setting.

She looked about with an appreciative eye as she walked slowly towards her destination. It was such a simple, beautiful, country town – so strange that it should be a place associated with such great sorrow, such terrible memories.

Roy had mentioned his theory that Ed had regained his memories of the night he and Alphonse attempted human transmutation. Given Ed's actions and words in the past thirty-six hours, it seemed a likely assumption.

It made sense that Ed would choose to come back here. This was where it all started.

This was where he had spent his first childhood, running around with Al and Winry. Riza had seen the photographs – they had seemed such happy children. She knew that Ed and Al's father had left when the boys were very young and that this event had weighed heavily on the elder brother. Alphonse didn't seem to recall as much about their father and Edward didn't like to talk about the man except in contempt and anger. But Riza had not failed to notice the pain hidden behind the boy's animosity. She believed that he truly missed his father, despite his protests to the contrary, and the man's absence had always hurt him greatly.

This speculation had only been confirmed by the closeness Ed now shared with Roy. He craved his new father's attention and approval and Roy was more than happy to provide. That foolish man had thrived under the unconditional love his son had shown him – to think that he hadn't known such love was possible before.

She smiled sadly at her own thoughts. _It is always those we love the most who have the ability to cause the most pain._ She knew that well enough, herself. Her own father had been a recluse, ever absorbed in his studies, neglectful of his health and wellbeing. He had shown little care for his only child – the last living remnant of the wife he had loved so dearly. Once, when her mother was still alive, they had been happy together. But with her death, he had lost a part of himself. In a way, Riza lost both her parents that day. Nevertheless, she had continued to love and care for her father, even going so far as to allow him to burden her with the secrets of his alchemy. He had lost his ability to return the love she gave him, but her had loyalty never faltered. She doubted that he'd ever even realized her devotion to him.

So many fathers failed to realize how important they were to their children. Brigadier General Hughes had known. Roy knew now. Her father had not known. Hohenhiem had not. But their influences lived on nonetheless.

Riza shook her head to clear her thoughts and looked up as she drew closer to the graveyard. She could see him now – in the very spot Winry had said he would be. His small form was little more than a ball of red and yellow huddled in front of a grave – his mother's grave.

Then there was Trisha Elric, devoted mother to two wonderful boys who had stayed with them and loved them until her final moments. Riza had heard about Edward's first mother through Winry, when they had last been in Resembool. She had supported Ed and Al in everything they did, amazed at their abilities, calling them her little geniuses. Her death had hit the boys hard, devastating the peaceful life they'd made in spite of their father's absence. It didn't seem fair, but then, that was how things went. People live and people die and life only flows in one direction. It was a lesson Riza had learned with the death of her own mother. The boys learned the first part but they refused to accept the second until it was too late.

Their mistake had cost them so much but it had also taught them a great deal. Riza had often been amazed by the wisdom and fortitude those two boys had shown. They valued human life above all else and were determined to fix their mistake on their own without using anyone else as a stepping stone. They stood on a moral high ground that many would call foolish or naïve. Riza, herself, had felt that way at one point. After having killed so many, as a sniper in Ishval and in her continued service to the General and to Amestris, she couldn't see how anyone could expect to do the things those boys did without ever taking a life. Yet she had been jealous of them as well. She had no regrets about her life – even her time in Ishval, as terrible as it had been, had been a necessary part of her duty to protect the one she loved. But Ed and Al had forced her to look at things from a different angle and realize that, yes, sometimes there was another way – you just have to find it.

She wondered now if Ed realized the impact he had made on their lives. Here he was, reliving a terrible moment in his past and suffering from all the emotions that came with it. But did he see – was it even possible for him to recognize how much good had come from that moment? If Ed and Al had not done what they did… so many things would be different really and it was silly to ponder what ifs – but one thing did stand out in Riza's mind about that scenario. If Ed and Al had not committed the taboo, then Roy would have never discovered the joy of being a father.

On that note, she would not have known what it was to be a mother either.

She had not set out to be Edward's mother. After Roy adopted the baby, Riza had questioned his sanity. Not only had the man known nothing about children at the time, but he was also, very likely, the _last _person that Edward Elric would have chosen to have act as his father. In the four years Edward had served under Colonel Mustang, they had rarely managed to tolerate one another. And while Riza had her suspicions that both Ed and Roy had felt some sort of affection or endearment for each other, neither was ever going to admit it. Nevertheless, Roy was determined to be the boy's father. At first Riza thought he had chosen this out of some sense of responsibility or guilt. But as time went on, Roy's devotion to his new son became more and more apparent. Somehow, little baby Ed had managed to ensnare the heart of the hardened Flame Alchemist. And, somehow, the tiny child managed to do the same to her.

Before, her duty had been to the Colonel. This had been her driving force, her direction. She had someone she needed to protect and so she did whatever she had to do to accomplish that goal. But when Roy adopted Ed, something changed. Suddenly, she had two people she needed to protect – the man she loved and the boy who was his son. And to be his mother… The first time Ed had called her mama, she knew that it was true. She had suddenly realized what her heart had been telling her for some time. She hadn't set out to be his mother – but it had happened nonetheless and Ed was as dear to her as any child she might have born from her own womb.

And Ed had loved her. There truly was nothing quite so wondrous as the love of a child. It was precious and pure, all smiles and hugs, cuddles and laughter, pictures and hand-made presents. She had never gushed over her son the way some mothers did, but she had cherished every gift and kept every moment in her heart. Even in more recent years, when his age demanded a certain distance and an end to the childish displays of affection, he had not hesitated to offer a hug or to say those precious words. He showed his appreciation for her in his quiet smiles and thoughtful actions. That was her Ed.

She had worried, just as her husband had, that she would lose those things with the return of Ed's memories. But the morning after Ed's revelation had proved quite firmly that her Ed was still there. His memories seemed to have simply opened up another door in their relationship as they delved deeply into shared experiences which they had not previously been able to discuss. And she had to admit that the heightened level of banter between her husband and his son was humorous, if only because the underlying current of affection was so much more obvious now than it had been twelve years ago.

It had been curious to watch the two subtly workout their "new" relationship. Meanwhile, Riza felt that her own relationship with the boy had not changed at all. Perhaps it was because they had not known each other as well in the past. She had always been there but her relationship with the Fullmetal Alchemist had been primarily professional. She had seldom allowed the care and affection she had felt towards the Elric brothers to show through her practiced façade. There was that one day, just before Ed's transformation, when he had come to her apartment and they had shared a cup of tea while she revealed to him the horrors of Ishval. That day, she had told him. She had ushered him out the door with a reminder that there were a lot of people supporting him, waiting for him to succeed, herself included.

She didn't think he remembered that day yet – at least not in full – but she wondered if he realized now, how many people still supported him, cared for him, loved him.

And she wondered, as he knelt before the grave of the mother he had once loved so dearly and lost, if _this_ would be the turning point in her own relationship with her son. Would he continue to accept her, as he had for twelve years, as his mother? Would she serve as a reminder to him of what he had lost? Would he be able to move beyond this pain and embrace the love he still had in his life?

She didn't speak as she drew near to the place where he was. She watched his still form, noting the gentle rise and fall of his back as he breathed, and the strands of hair which caught in the wind and tossed about wildly.

She knew that he would not appreciate another intrusion upon his melancholy thoughts. He would likely withdraw or run again, if she tried to pry. But sometimes, all a person really needed was the presence of another.

Twelve years ago, Ed had come to her with the questions which weighed so heavily on his mind. Now he was plagued again but she could not force her advice upon him. She would wait. He would come to her when he was ready.

Quietly, Riza stepped up beside her son and then lowered herself to her knees before the grave.

* * *

Ed tensed when he heard the footsteps behind him. It would be the Col-General again… or Winry. He knew they wouldn't stop trying. He also knew that he'd have to go back eventually. It wasn't like he could stay out there indefinitely.

But he wasn't ready yet.

He knew what they would say… what they would do – hugs and hot chocolate probably, comforting words, support and encouragement. He didn't deserve any of it. He didn't want it.

But the person who knelt beside him wasn't the General or his mechanic. It was his mother – no, Hawkeye. His mother was… his eyes lingered on the gravestone.

Trisha Elric was dead. She'd been dead for more than twenty years. For twelve of those years, he'd forgotten her – replaced her. The woman beside him now… he couldn't hold it against her. She'd raised him and cared for him out of the goodness of her heart. He hadn't deserved it, but he hadn't known any better either. Now he knew. He knew what he'd done to Trisha Elric – to his mother. He didn't deserve a mother's love anymore. How could he accept it?

How could he refuse it?

He didn't want to hurt anyone else. He'd already caused so much pain. The General and Hawkeye… they had done so much for him. He didn't think he could ever repay them. Leaving them now, rejecting them… it would hurt them. It already had. More pain, more suffering, more guilt on top of everything else.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone? It would be so much easier if they didn't want him back. If they would just hate him and forget about him then he wouldn't have to hurt them. He would be miserable. But they would be alright. And he deserved to be miserable anyway. He'd caused this. He'd brought it upon himself. And it hurt.

His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His eyes itched with the tears he'd been holding back for too long. But he wouldn't allow himself to cry. Crying would be a relief, a release of everything that had been building up inside him. He didn't deserve that, and so he fought them, beating them back even as they poured forth from his eyes over and over again.

A subtle shift to his right caught his eye, reminding him of Hawkeye's presence. She hadn't said anything. That was odd. She was just kneeling there, staring at the gravestone. She didn't look at him or acknowledge him in anyway.

_Why is she here? _

He assumed that she would try to talk to him, as the General had. She would want to break through his walls and bring him home. _That's why they came here, isn't it? Why they followed me? So why isn't she saying anything?_

He shook his head and looked back at the headstone. _I don't want her to say anything. It's better this way. She's… probably waiting for me to say something. Yeah… that's more like mo – like Hawkeye. Well… she'll be waiting a long time because… I can't. _

Except, ignoring her ended up being more difficult than he expected. She was as still as a statue and yet her mere presence was a distraction. He couldn't focus on the grave and on the past and on his guilt while his curiosity was burning with questions. _What is she waiting for? How long is she going to stay? What is she doing? _His eyes kept drifting towards her and suddenly the silence felt uncomfortable. It was strange to feel awkward in silence around his moth- around Hawkeye. She'd always been so quiet – like a Hawk. But here, in the empty stillness of the graveyard, the presence of another _living_ person almost demanded that he speak.

"What are you doing?" he finally muttered. The sound of his own voice seemed to fill the air and expand, breaking the suffocating hush which had engulfed them.

Her response was slow. She bowed her head a moment and then lifted her eyes to meet his. "Paying my respects."

Ed blinked. It was… a weird answer, certainly not what he had expected. It threw him off completely, derailing the guilt train which had been speeding along without pause for almost two days straight. "What do mean? You didn't even know her."

Her soft smile was almost imperceptible. "I may not have ever met her, but I feel as though I did know her." She left it there and Ed became suspicious of her motives. He knew what she was doing. She was making him ask, forcing him to speak with her sneaky cliffhangers. _Well it's not gonna work on me_. He thought, turning to face the grave once more. Except that it was working.

"How so?"

Yup, there it was. She won. Ed bit back the irritation he felt at his own curiosity for working against him.

"I knew her sons."

His eyes darted back to the woman at his side. "Wait, me and Al? You feel like you knew her because you knew us?" She nodded and he considered that for a moment before shaking his head. "That doesn't make any sense. You either know someone or you don't. You can't know a person through another person."

Her eyes lit up with that knowing look that he'd come to know so well – the one which said there was still so much that he didn't know. He had a love/hate relationship with that look. He hated it because it made him feel ignorant. But he loved it because it meant he was about to learn something new and that he and his mom were gonna have one of their _deep_ conversations about life. She always got his brain working in different ways and he loved to stretch out those muscles.

"How do you know a person, Ed?" It always started with questions. She would never just give him the answers.

"Through shared experiences." She nodded but he knew that wasn't enough. He thought for a moment about how he'd come to _know_ the people he knew. "You get a first impression and then a second impression. You make judgments based on observation. You spend time with them and get to know their personality."

"And what makes up a person's personality?"

"Well… their past experiences, I suppose – where they grew up, how they were raised, decisions they've made, what they learned. It all comes together to make up who they are." But that wasn't the answer his mother was looking for. It wasn't wrong. It just wasn't everything. "That's the nurture part of it anyway. There's also nature, right? People are born with a certain set of ingrained personality traits which form their earliest decisions and instinctive responses."

She nodded. "Where do those come from?"

Ed sighed as he realized where she was leading him. "Genetics… you're saying that we get a lot of who we are from our parents." Another nod. "And so you can say that you knew our mother because me and Al were a lot like her. Her personality traits showed through us and revealed to you a little bit of who she was. But I'm not sure that's enough. Genetics doesn't really cover everything."

"No, but you're forgetting the nurture part of the equation. Trisha Elric raised you and Alphonse. She taught you many things and formed your early years. Those things continued to shine through in your personalities long after she was gone."

"Maybe in Al." Ed argued. "I was nothing like her. If anything I was more like…" the word he muttered might have been Hohenheim but it wasn't very clear. "And I know I'm nothing like her now. I'm probably more like you and Dad now."

"On the contrary, there are many things you do and have done since you were very small which come neither from me nor your father."

"Like what?"

She smiled, genuinely and took a moment to reminisce on what was likely a fond memory. "Well, there is that little country wave you've always given to people we meet on the street."

"What?" It took Ed a moment to realize that, yes, he did do that, even now. But… "You guys greet people on the street, too."

"With a nod perhaps. If we know the person we might smile. That's how things are done in the city. But out here in Resembool, everyone gets a wave and a grin – even complete strangers. Trisha was born and raised here, wasn't she?"

Ed nodded. "I think so."

"That country attitude was ingrained into her personality and it was just one of the many things she passed on to you and your brother."

"I didn't used to do that though."

"Only because you let your brother do it for you. There is also her sensitivity and compassion to the needs of others."

"Now I know you're just talking about Al."

"Her fortitude and strength."

"How do you know we got that from her?"

"Her determination to do the right thing even when it isn't easy."

Ed stopped and looked back at the headstone. It still didn't make sense that Hawkeye would know but… yeah… yeah, that was from her. She had always done the right thing, no matter what. She always chose the right path. She thought things through and figured out what was good and pure and honest. She accepted whatever trials and obstacles the world threw in her path and she lived her life to the fullest. She had been able to do what he couldn't.

"No." He whispered, frowning sharply. "No, I'm not like her. Don't say that! I'm nothing like her. I don't deserve to be!"

He waited for the contradiction. He waited for the words which would seek to console him, to affirm whatever merit they thought he had. They were wrong. They were all wrong. They didn't understand. How could they? They had never done the things he had done. They didn't have to live with the guilt of destroying their own family.

Ed waited, braced himself to fight or run, whichever was necessary to escape the consolation they were trying to force upon him. He'd already allowed too much. She'd broken through his walls and eased some of the pain without him realizing what she was doing. He wouldn't let her do it a second time. He couldn't allow it.

But the words never came.

Instead, that stifling silence returned, cutting through the chaos in his mind. The silence… it was worse than the words. It needed to be broken or it would smother him. She wasn't speaking though.

So he did.

"It's my fault."

At first it was just those three words, but then… something happened. Something broke inside him and he realized that he needed to say everything out loud, to confess, to admit to his crime. He had hidden it all for so long. But now... now they would know and then they would understand, then they would hate him and stop trying to bring him back. This is what he needed to do.

"I destroyed my family. It was all my fault. I was always underfoot, always causing problems. That's why my father left. I drove him away. He couldn't bear to even look at me. He didn't even say goodbye. We were standing right there and he just turned away. And then Mom was so sad. And I thought I could make her happy but everything I did just made it worse because I reminded her of _him_. Then she got sick and I couldn't _do _anything. And Dad was gone because of me so he couldn't help either. And Al was so scared. And I promised her – I promised I'd take care of him and be a good big brother and never let anything happen to him. But I was so stupid and selfish – I wanted her back. I thought I could do that but instead of protecting Al I dragged him into it with me. I made him help me with that transmutation. It should have been _me_ who lost my whole body. I'm the one who wanted to do it. I'm the one who was arrogant enough to believe it would work. But it failed. _I_ _failed!_ I destroyed my little brother and trapped him in a suit of armor. He was all I had left and I told him I would fix it. I told him that everything would be okay. I _promised _him! But I couldn't even do that much. I lost him! I lost my brother – my whole family. I destroyed them all. It's _my_ fault!

I should be dead! I deserve to die for what I've done. Mom and Al were so good. I'm the screw up! I'm the one who destroyed everything. So, why are they gone and I'm still here? Why do I have so much while they have nothing? Does Al get another mom? A dad who actually cares about him? Does he get a comfortable bed and home cooked meals? He can't even sleep or eat! Does he get to go to school and make friends? Does he get to be _normal? No!_ He doesn't get anything! Because of me! It's my fault! I don't deserve another family! I don't deserve any of this. Where's the equivalent exchange? How is any of this equal? How is it fair? It's not!… it's not…"

The words poured forth unchecked and all the while, his mother listened. When he was finished, he gasped for air. His eyes burned but he refused to let himself cry.

She knew now. She knew everything and she would go tell the others and then they would leave him and that would be the right thing. Because, he couldn't stay with them. He couldn't risk destroying another family. He couldn't bare it if something happened to them, because of him. It would be better once they let him go. Maybe they could have a child of their own or adopt another baby – a real baby without a messed up past and weird memories. Then they would be happy. They didn't need him and he didn't deserve them.

"I have never understood how you alchemists try to rationalize the world through equivalent exchange."

She did it again – jarring him from his thoughts with an unexpected anecdote. And, damn his curiosity for letting her succeed, he looked up at her and tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"Your father does the exact same thing." She wasn't contemplative this time. Her eyes were hard, almost angry, but it wasn't directed towards him. No, she was angry at the law of equivalent exchange – the driving force behind alchemy and the reason he had failed. "Attempting to give only a much as he takes and only accepting what he has earned. But all of that gets thrown out the window when someone he cares for is in danger. He throws everything he has into protecting them, going above and beyond what anyone would call equivalent. And you're no different, young man." She turned her eyes on him and Ed froze.

"You would do anything to save your brother. You would defy the laws of science and turn equivalent exchange on its head if it meant saving him or finding some way to restore his body. You never even cared about getting your own limbs back." Her eyes dared him to deny it. "Why?"

"I already told you. It was my fault! I had to get Al's body back. My own body didn't matter. This…" he held up his automail arm. "This was my punishment."

"And it wasn't for Alphonse?"

"_No!_ He didn't do anything wrong! It was me! I made him do it so I have to fix it!"

"I wonder how Alphonse would respond to that argument."

Ed turned away from the question. He didn't need to imagine what Al would say. He _knew_ what Al would say. Al was too good-hearted to let Ed take all the blame on himself. Al would insist that it was both of their faults and that they would work together to get both of their bodies back.

"What if it wasn't your fault?" Her question brought him back into the present moment.

"It was – !"

"_What if_ it wasn't? What if it really had been an accident which lost Alphonse his body? What would you have done?"

Ed shook his head. "I don't… I don't understand."

"Would you have still given up your arm to save his soul?"

"Of course!" The answer came readily, before his mind could rationalize that he wouldn't have actually been able to do that without having seen the Truth.

"Would you have promised to find a way to restore his body?"

"Yes!" And then he felt angry. Her questions were so calm and detached. She was trying to lead him somewhere again but he couldn't figure it out this time and he really wasn't in the mood to try. "Why are you asking this? You know that I would! He's my brother!

"Why?"

"I told you! He's my brother!"

"And what would he give you in exchange?"

"… what?" his thoughts ground to a halt. _What is she asking now?_

"What would he have to give you in exchange for your promise?"

Ed frowned. She wasn't making any sense. "_Nothing_… he wouldn't have to give me anything. I'd do it because… because that's what brother's do."

"That's what families do." A warm hand came to rest on his shoulder and he looked up into his mother's smiling eyes. "Families, friends, loved ones… even strangers sometimes. We reach out to those in need, not out of duty or obligation, but because it's the right thing to do. There is no equivalent exchange when it comes to love. You can't earn it or buy it. It is freely given and freely received, no questions asked. If we tried to determine how much love we deserve based on how many mistakes we've made in the past, how many wrongs we've committed… well, neither your father nor I would deserve any love."

Ed gasped and opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. "You know about Ishval, Edward. Maybe you don't remember everything I told you in the past, but you know enough. Your father's guilt still weighs heavily on him. My own guilt threatens my heart at times. We both have nightmares. They never fully go away. But we cannot allow them to consume us. We still have work to do, promises to be kept. And so we carry on, and we take strength from those that need us. We learn how to accept the love that is freely given to us and, slowly, we learn how to forgive ourselves. _You_ have actually done a lot to help us down that path – your father especially."

"I have?"

His mother nodded. "I first met your father when he was a young man, apprenticed to my father before the war. Back then, his eyes were filled with light and laughter. After Ishval, much of that light was lost. I thought that I would never see it again. And then one day, not long after he adopted you, I found him rocking a tiny baby to sleep… and his eyes were shining again. Since then, I have seen that light return to him many times – but only when he is with you. _You _are his light now, Edward. He needs you and so do I. Our family is not complete without you."

Ed winced as his lip cracked open where he'd been chewing on it for most of the day. It was hard to believe that he was really that important to them. He didn't think he deserved their love but… did they deserve to not have his? No. He loved them and if being a part of their family made them better then… he needed to be there, didn't he?

But… "I don't know how to do this."

"Stand up and walk."

Ed turned around at the voice, to find his father standing behind them. The man drew closer and crouched down by his side. "Keep moving forward even if the way ahead lies through a river of mud."

Ed whispered the last part along with his father. He knew those words. They had given him strength before. He wondered if they would be enough now.

"You're not alone this time." His mother said. "We can't make the guilt and pains go away. You have to learn to forgive yourself and it will be your burden to carry until you do. But when it becomes too much for you to carry on your own – we will carry you, Ed."

His eyes stung. He tried to fight back the tears but they started to leak through. Shaking his head, he started to say, "I don't deserve –" only to be cut off by a firm swat to the back of his head.

"Bullshit." Ed almost laughed at the reprimanding look his mother gave his father for the language. "You deserve this and so much more. After everything you've been through, after all the hard lessons you've learned and how much you've lost along the way, you deserve a little happiness. And I'll be damned if I don't make sure that happens."

And then Ed did laugh, though his tears, because Roy Mustang sounded far too conceited for his own good. "I thought you were done being an arrogant Colonel with a god-complex. You can't just go around guaranteeing peoples happiness."

"Watch me."

Ed wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying anymore but he didn't really care. He was finally allowing himself to release the emotions which had been building within his chest ever since those terrifying memories returned.

There, beside the grave of the mother he had lost, Ed took comfort in the arms of the mother and father he had gained. And the warm breeze, which tossed his hair and caressed his dampened cheeks, seemed to carry with it a voice saying,

_There's my Little Man._


	18. in which these are not the droids

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** So many reviews! I am so thankful for all of your support. I am also thankful for my bestest friend who always encourages and inspires me. I am thankful for stew, which I had last week, and pie, which I will have this week. I am thankful for so many things.

This is not a Thanksgiving chapter as they do not celebrate Thanksgiving in Amestris. But it is a much lighter chapter than we've seen recently, which I'm sure you'll be thankful for (unless you are a masochist and need angst all the time) And the title… well there aren't actually any droids in this story but it popped into my head as I was trying to come up with a title and I liked it. So it stays.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 18, in which these are not the droids you are looking for**

"I'm really impressed, Ed. You've been taking excellent care of your automail."

Ed rolled his eyes and struggled to sit still with his right arm propped up on the worktable so that Winry could tinker with it. The mechanic had decided – no more than ten seconds after he and his parents walked into her house – that since he was in Resembool anyway, she might as well give his arm and leg a thorough cleaning and check to make sure everything was still in working order. She also wanted him to run through a series of reflex and precision tests with her to see how the rehabilitation was going.

"Of course I have. That was the deal wasn't it? I wouldn't have been allowed to get automail until I was older if I hadn't promised to take care of it."

"Mmmhmm." Winry replied absently as she used her screwdriver remove the outer plating on his forearm. She eyed the inner wirings critically for a moment before looking up at him with an unconvinced grin and one raised eyebrow. "And just how many times has Riza needed to remind you to dry it off after bathing? Or to oil it when the hinges stick?"

Ed sputtered indignantly in reply. "Who says I need someone to remind me?! I can take care of my automail just fine on my own, thank you very much!" He would have crossed his arms petulantly had Winry not been in the process of digging through the innards of his automail. As it was, he settled for leaning his left elbow heavily against the arm of the chair and propping hand against his cheek with a scowl.

"Right…" the mechanic drawled, skeptically. She used the end of her screwdriver to tap twice on his arm, the sound echoing with a delightful ring. Ed eyed her sideways. "You forget that I _know_ you, Edward Elric."

His scowl turned quickly into a glare as he turned back to face the woman who was now twelve years older than him. He almost tore his right arm away from the table, but Winry was holding it firmly.

"And _you_ forget that I'm Edward _Mustang_ now, you dumb gearhead!"

Winry's face flushed red and she was visibly chewing the inside of her cheek, likely trying her hardest to keep her temper. "Just because your name is different," she started calmly. "Doesn't mean you're not the same lazy, inconsiderate, jerk of an alchemy freak you've always been!"

By the time she finished, Ed really had taken back his arm and was cowering against the opposite arm of his chair, ready to fly over it and run at a moment's notice. "You're not gonna hit me with your wrench now, are you?" he whimpered apprehensively.

And then, as though someone had flipped a switch, whatever anger had been bubbling up inside of the mechanic suddenly vanished. She stared at him with a blank expression for several moments, as though stunned by his words, or perhaps by the way he had said them. Ed wasn't really sure.

"O-of course not! Ed, why would you even think I would do something like that?"

Her tone was so sweet, almost motherly, and that made Ed suspicious of her words. He wasn't ready to trust that she _wouldn't_ hit him once he let his guard down. "That's what you always used to do." He muttered warily.

This time, the flush on Winry's cheeks was clearly one of embarrassment as she grinned awkwardly and waved one hand up and down as though to somehow placate his fears. "Oh! You remember that? That was _years _ago. You have nothing to worry about _now_, Ed."

Ed peered around the room, circumspectly searching for the aforementioned weapon of mass brain damage infliction. "I don't believe you."

The mechanic seemed to wilt under his distrustful glower. "Oh, Ed. Please don't look at me like that. I would never hurt you. I don't hit little kids."

It was Ed's turn to flare red. "Who are you calling a pint-sized bean sprout?!"

She bit her lip. She shut her eyes. She held her breath. But all of her attempts failed to hold back the squealing giggle that ultimately burst forth. A moment later, Ed found himself trapped in the arms of the woman who had once been his best friend. Eyes wide, he blushed heavily as she spun him around, with his head pressed against her chest and his feet barely skimming the floor, and continued making sounds of absolute delight and excitement.

"Oh, Ed! You are just so _cute_! You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that! It's been too long!"

The moment Ed gained enough footing to provide the smallest amount of leverage, he pulled away from the over-enthusiastic mechanic and pushed her hands back. "Get _off_ me! I am _not _cute! And I don't appreciate being treated like a rag doll any more than I like being hit with a wrench. I'm the same age now as I was back then. You never had a problem with hitting me before!"

"Hmm…" Winry considered his words for a moment. "That's true. Although, I was only a kid myself, back then. We were the same age so it didn't really seem like I was hitting a kid. Now, you're so much younger than me, it would just seem wrong."

"It's always been wrong!"

Winry didn't pay any heed to his interjection and continued over top of his words. "I've also grown up quite a bit since then. I'm far more mature than I used to be."

"_Mature_?! You call that mature? You were just swinging me around like a school girl who'd found a puppy! Or Al with a kitten! You're not mature at all! You're exactly the same as you've always been!"

"That's no way to talk to your elders, Edward Mustang!"

"Oh, so you're my elder, now? Guess that means you must be ol–"

"I would not finish that sentence if I were you, Son."

Ed turned around to see his father standing in the doorway which separated Winry's workroom from the rest of the house. He'd obviously been drawn by the noise, but it was unclear just how long he'd been standing there.

"In case you hadn't noticed," the man continued. "Miss Rockbell is saying that she will _not_ be hitting you in the head with a wrench. I highly suggest that_ you_ not give her a reason to change her mind." After saying this, Roy turned and left his son alone with the mechanic.

Ed's mouth hung open for all of two seconds before he spun to face Winry once more. The woman's face was smug, although she had clearly not realized this aspect of the situation anymore than Ed had before his father pointed it out. Still, Winry now had the upper hand and Ed knew that she wouldn't hesitate to use it if he didn't do some serious groveling – quick.

He rubbed the back of his neck and gulped nervously. "Um… sorry Winry. Like you said, I'm an inconsiderate jerk. Sometimes this mouth of mine just says whatever it wants and… um…" he was failing. He was epically failing. He could almost feel the wrench already. He shut his eyes, waiting for the worst to come.

But the blow never came. Instead, he found himself wrapped in another embrace, much gentler this time than the previous. "Oh, Ed." Winry's voice was soft and sincere. Her arms were warm and her scent familiar. "I've missed you, Alchemy Freak." And somehow even her insult was endearing.

"I've missed you too, Gearhead." He looked up at her with a shy smile. But the smile faded quickly as he realized, with a sudden pang in his chest, just how much older than him she really was now. She'd been his best friend before – maybe… _maybe_ even something a little more. Now though… now she couldn't really be that, could she? Not even just the best friend part. She was right. He was just a little kid. She was a grown woman. They had years between them now – years that could never be regained. What could she be to him now, beyond being his mechanic? She wasn't old enough to be a mother figure. Besides, that spot was already taken. She didn't really seem like an aunt either. An older sister, maybe?

He sighed heavily and stepped away from her embrace.

"What is it, Ed? What's wrong?" Winry frowned, picking up on his sudden change in attitude.

He shrugged in reply. "Nothing. It's stupid." He turned to walk away she grabbed his left hand in her own, forcing him to look back at her.

"Tell me."

He hesitated for only a moment, biting his lip, before diving in with another heavy sigh. "I just… don't know where we stand anymore. Cause… I mean, you'll always be my mechanic but… we used to be best friends and now…" he shrugged. No more really needed to be said.

The smile Winry gave him then was filled with warmth and love. It was almost painful to look at, but comforting at the same time.

"You were the first friend I ever had, Ed. I can't remember a time before you were there. My earliest memories have you in them. For fifteen years, it was you, me, and Al – even when the two of you were off gallivanting around the country. I never stopped thinking about you, worrying about you, caring about you. I don't know if you remember, but I _did_ join in on a few of your adventures."

Ed smiled. "I remember."

She nodded. "Then you must know how important you and your brother were to me – how important you still are. I can't imagine my life without you in it. When Colonel Mustang came to us twelve years ago with a baby, saying it was you – I didn't hesitate for a moment. I took you in my arms and promised myself that you would be well cared for and happy, because that's all I wanted for you." She laughed softly for a moment, remembering. "Of course, you were very particular about what, or rather _who,_ you wanted. I think Roy started calling you Velcro Baby after he got you back. He wrote letters all the time, letting us know how you were doing. Granny Pinako loved listening to me read them out loud, after her eyesight started to go bad. I read them all over and over to her during her last days. We were so proud of you. And I don't think anything could have made me happier than the day I got that letter from _you_ saying that you were coming to Resembool for automail. And when you showed up on my doorstep… it was like everything fell into place again. Even though you didn't remember me, even though Al was still missing…" a sorrowful look fluttered across her eyes for a moment, but then it was gone. "Everything was as it should be, in those moments, because you were happy and healthy and strong. That was the only thing that mattered. And I was okay with things as they were.

Now that you remember though, there's no reason why we can't pick up where we left off. Yes, I'm older now. But, in a way, so are you. We both have fifteen years worth of memories to reminisce over and twelve years worth of new experiences to share. Roy only said so much in his letters. I want to know what it's been like for _you_ growing up in Central. And I want to tell you about the things that have happened here in Resembool and in Rush Valley. I want to know what your plans are for the future and I want to tell you mine. You're _still_ my best friend, Ed. That won't ever change. A friendship like ours is bigger than any weird twists of fate the world decides to throw our way. We'll be friends forever."

Her words were so genuine, so pure. It was easy to accept them as truth, no matter how cheesy they might be. "Friends forever, huh? You and me?" he paused then, because the equation was missing something. It wasn't just him and Winry. There was someone else too. "And Al." he concluded. Then he looked up at her, smiling with such determination that she looked almost surprised for a moment. "I'm gonna find him, Winry. I don't know where he is and I don't know how, yet, but I _will_ find him. And then it'll be all three of us – you, me, and Al – friends forever."

She smiled brightly and squeezed his hand, prompting him to look down at where their fingers were intertwined. It was strange – her hand was so much bigger than his now. It wasn't soft and dainty like some women's hands though. It was worn rough from years of hard work with automail. She had calluses on the inside of her palm from gripping her tools too harshly. But it was a strong hand – a hand he knew he could count on to be there whenever he needed help. Because that's what best friends were for.

As the moment ended, Ed released his grip and started to move away. A glint of gold caught his eye though, causing him to catch her hand once more. He stared inquisitively at the metal band on her fourth finger. There had to be some sort of significance to that – other than her earrings, Winry never wore jewelry.

"What's with the ring?" He asked only a moment before it dawned on him where he'd seen that symbol before. His mother wore a similar ring on her own left hand, fourth finger… and he _knew _what that meant. "Is that a wedding band?" his eyes grew wide in shock even before the question fully left his mouth.

Winry snatched her hand back quickly and started fiddling with the ring in a shy, nervous manner. She smiled, her cheeks stained red in a pleased sort of embarrassment. "It's… an engagement ring." She admitted.

Ed opened his mouth the say something but lost his train of thought as a tangent flipped through his head. "I thought engagement rings had diamonds…"

"In my line of work, a diamond would just get in the way. I'd probably end up losing it in someone's automail. Wouldn't that be a surprise! Imagine finding a diamond in your arm – or your leg!" She laughed. "Anyway, Jason knew I would need something more practical than that and –"

"Jason?! You're engaged to Jason?" Ed… wasn't really sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was still trying to process the simple fact that _Winry_ was _engaged_. He couldn't seem to wrap his head around it. She was Winry – his best friend since diapers – and now she'd been engaged for who knew how long and he didn't _know_ about it? It didn't seem right? Shouldn't she have at least run the idea by him before running off and getting engaged to someone she'd only known for… he wasn't actually sure how long she'd known him but that was beside the point! She should have come to him first! He would've told her… Okay, so he had no idea _what_ he would have told her. It wasn't like _he _wanted to… _No!_ No, he did not want to marry her himself. That was just crazy! Even if at one… strange… barely remembered… probably drugged up on pain medication… moment in his life he had contemplated the idea – that was _years _ago! Twelve years ago to be precise – when he'd been fifteen and she'd been fifteen and the thought had actually made some small, smidgen of a tiny bit of sense. Now he was twelve and she was… fifteen plus twelve equals… twenty-seven! It wasn't even remotely possible now and it was crazy to even contemplate the idea. No, it was better this way. He was perfectly happy being twelve years old and the last thing he wanted to start thinking about was getting married. That was a thought for the future – _way_ in the future. Winry though… she was definitely old enough to start thinking about getting married. And it wasn't like she could just wait for him to grow up again. No. That would be stupid. She said she wanted him to be happy – well, he wanted her to be happy too and if getting married was what made her happy than, so be it, he would support her… as long as he approved of the guy. After all, Winry's parents weren't around to make sure the cad was worthy of their daughter. _Someone_ had to set the standards high and make sure the louse wasn't up to no good and would do right by their Winry. It was his duty as her oldest and dearest friend to defend her honor against the pigs of the world. She wasn't just any girl after all. She was special – a real Resembool rose, treasured and protected by those who knew her and loved her and, by the Gate, he was not about to let just any disgraceful, good-for-nothing, chauvinistic, miscreant walk her down the aisle.

But Jason?

Jason had helped with his automail. Jason supported Winry's profession. Jason told really funny jokes. Jason liked pie and stew and dogs. Jason thought Ed was the bravest, strongest kid he'd ever met.

Ed liked Jason.

"Okay."

Ed didn't realize that Winry had been talking until he cut her off.

"What?" Winry had her mouth hanging open a little and a dazed sort of look in her eyes. Her hands were up in the air as if they'd frozen in the process of animatedly explaining something important. Ed had no idea what it might have been but he decided that it probably wasn't that important.

"Okay," he repeated himself. "Marry Jason."

"Really? You're okay with this? Just like that?"

Ed shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets – or, he tried to anyway. His automail caught on the fabric where it was still open. After holding up his arm to remind his mechanic of the task at hand, he plopped back down in his chair and let her reattach the cover plate while he answered her question.

"Well, yeah. He makes you happy, doesn't he?"

"Mmmhmm."

"And you love him?"

"Mmmhmm."

"And he loves you?"

"Well, I should hope so. He did ask me to marry him after all."

"You sure you're ready to be tied down for the rest of your life? Give up all this and be somebody's housewife?"

Winry scoffed. "As if! I'm not giving up anything and Jason knows better than to ask me to. I'm alright with having kids and doing my part in the raising and housework, but if he even thinks for one moment that I don't expect him to do his share, then _he_ will get to know the business end of my wrench."

"Good!" Ed grinned wickedly and met Winry's eyes as she finished reattaching the plate. "And Winry? If he ever hurts you…" Ed stood and clapped his hands together firmly. A moment and a flash of blue light later, the plate which she had just attached transformed into a familiar blade. "He'll have to answer to me."

…

"_Edward! _What did you do to my automail, you_ alchemy freak!?"_

* * *

"You worry too much, Winry. I've had automail before. I'm an old hat at this rehab stuff." Ed was settled on the couch between his parents, resigned to submit to his mechanic's "tests" after having upset her with his sudden transmutation of _her_ automail. His mom and dad had seemed like a safe hiding place for all of five seconds. The moment Winry burst into the living room, fuming, they both pinned him with accusatory looks. He'd been smart enough to turn his automail back to normal while on the run, but that didn't help him much when Winry was so vocal about his "crime." His "punishment" therefore, was to put up with whatever she deemed necessary to ensure that his automail was in perfectly working order.

"Your head may remember how this goes but your body doesn't." She was perched on the coffee table in front of him with his automail foot resting on her lap. His pant leg was rolled up as high as he could get it to go, which wasn't even to his knee, and her fingers were prodding at some gear inside his metal shin. "I want to look at your ports next. I saw the way you ran earlier. There's no way you should be moving that well only four months after surgery. How are you not in pain?"

"I've been doing strength training exercises; working to build the muscles I need the most to manipulate my automail."

"Yes, I've heard about your_ exercises_, Ed. I'm not happy you went behind my back and started doing these workouts without my approval. You could have seriously hurt yourself. And if the nerves are damaged during the healing process, it'll mean a whole new surgery to get them working right. You were supposed to follow the routine I set for you. That was the agreement."

"The routine you set was focused on teaching me things I already knew how to do."

"You didn't though. You'd never used those nerves before. You needed to establish a connection between them and your brain. The routine was designed to –"

"Yes, but that all changed once I started remembering things. I _remember_ having automail before. Heck, I remember having an arm and a leg before. And I remember the sensations. I remember which muscles I used to push and pull and jump and run. And once I had that back it only took a couple runs of trial and error to get it figured out. I didn't need to go through the slow routine anymore."

"That doesn't mean you can just start pushing yourself so hard."

"I wasn't –"

"He was, wasn't he?" Throughout their discussion, Winry had kept her primary focus on his leg, poking and prodding, testing for response and reflex. Now she looked up and directed her gaze toward his parents, who had been silently observing their exchange. "You said you were worried when he started working out all the time." She reminded his mother.

Riza nodded. "I was, but that was before he told us about his memory. Since then… well Ed can tell you himself."

"I'm not straining my ports, Winry." Ed insisted quickly, grateful to his mother for the chance to speak for himself. "My workouts have primarily been focused on building strength in the rest of my body. When I use my automail, it's focused and control. I can show you later. Even when Dad and I spar, I don't –"

"You've been sparring?! You and Al didn't even start light sparing until six months after the surgery last time." Her eyes widened in shock before shooting towards his father with an accusatory glare. The General was wise enough to keep silent and let his son handle this one.

"I could barely get out of bed last time. Between you, Al, and Granny Pinako constantly hovering over me, I wasn't able to do anything for myself for the first three months. And by that point my body had atrophied so much that I had to spend the _next_ three months regaining what I'd lost before I could even think about starting a workout routine." Winry opened her mouth to interject but Ed cut her off. "_Besides_, that automail was _so_ much heavier than this stuff. Remembering what it was like before… this stuff is amazing."

"Isn't it, though?" Gone was worry in Winry's eyes. A bubbly sort of excitement had replaced it as she started describing, in great detail, the process that had gone into creating what was apparently her finest work. "Only the very best for you, Ed. Of course it's also the most expensive. You'd better be glad your Dad's a General otherwise you really would have had to wait till you were older, just to afford it."

"Hey, I'm glad you didn't wait." A new voice cut in. The group turned to see Jason standing just inside the door with two large books under his arm. "That arm and leg of yours are gonna help pay for a nice trip to the beaches of Aerugo."

"You're going to Aerugo?" Ed asked, confused.

"Not until after the wedding." Winry replied with a blush. "For our honeymoon."

"Oh…" Ed didn't really want to think about that.

"You're getting married?" his father asked.

"Oh! Sorry! I hadn't told you yet." Winry stood and rushed over to take her fiancé's hand. "Yes, Jason ask me to marry him earlier this week." She held up her own left hand to show off the ring with a brilliant smile.

Ed kept his eyes on Jason but the man looked equally pleased and was watching Winry with adoring eyes. _Yeah… he'll do I guess_.

Then both of his parents were up and offering their congratulations to the happy couple. Ed didn't move. He couldn't really, with half his leg still open and spilling it's guts and wires on the coffee table. But apparently his father thought he had other motivations for sitting by the sidelines because the man returned to his side quickly while the women started talking about venues and color schemes – in far more sensible tones than would have been expected, given the subject matter, but given the women in question it wasn't too surprising.

"Hey." An elbow jostled Ed's side, prompting him to look up and meet his father's concerned gaze. "You okay with this?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I am. She already told me about it. So long as he treats her right and makes her happy, I don't have any objections."

"I'm glad to hear that." It wasn't his father who responded. Jason had also left the women to their talk and was now seating himself in Winry's vacated spot on the coffee table. He was mindful of Ed's leg and the various tools which were scattered about. "How're you feeling, Sport?"

Ed smiled. Jason had started calling him "Sport" back in November, just after the automail surgery. It was one of the few nicknames Ed actually appreciated – right up there with "Chief" – because it didn't imply anything about his age or his height. "Better. Sorry, for making you stay up last night." As much as he had been focused on his inner turmoil, Ed hadn't failed to notice the lurking presence of his mechanic and her assistant, keeping watch over him through the night.

Jason waved the apology away, his blue eyes sparkling beneath dark, unkempt bangs while he smiled. "Don't mention it. I'm just glad everything's worked itself out. Winry tells me you got your memories back."

Now this was a new moment. Ed had not yet spoken to anyone about his past that hadn't already been a _part _of his past. Jason was an unknown factor – how would someone who'd only known him as Ed Mustang react to the changes brought about by his memories of Edward Elric?

Ed nodded. "Yeah… but what do you know about my memories?" There was no malice in the words – only curiosity. Ed was really wondering how this was going to go.

The man just shrugged. "Not much. I only know what Winry's told me about you and your brother growing up here in Resembool with her. To be honest, I'm not sure I can wrap my head around your being _the_ Fullmetal Alchemist I heard so much about all those years ago. Hero of the People, right?"

"Something like that."

"Don't be modest, Fullmetal."

"Not helping, _Dad_."

Jason laughed. "See? You're still just Ed."

Ed tried to control the smirk on his face. Yes, he liked Jason. Sure, he'd already approved of the man marrying Winry. But that didn't mean he wasn't obliged to make the man sweat – just a little. "That's right. I'm just Ed. But I'm Ed Mustang _and _Ed Elric. I'm also Winry's oldest friend. We're practically family. You could even say that I'm her older brother."

Both Jason and his father snorted. "Sorry, Sport. You're definitely younger than her."

Ed fixed a hard gaze on the man before him. "We can debate _actual_ birthdates later. My point is that I'm the only family Winry has left. You wanna marry her? You think you're worthy of a woman like her?"

For a moment, Jason didn't seem to know whether to take him seriously or not. Then he sat up straight and met Ed's eyes as an equal. "No one could be worthy of a woman like Winry. She's strong, confident, determined, smarter than I could ever hope to be, with a heart capable of more compassion and love than I've seen in anyone else. She's got a fiery temper that has kept me on my toes since the day she gave me a new right foot. She's an independent woman and all I can ever hope to do is to support her in whatever she pursues, and be grateful everyday that she loves me."

Ed's mouth hung open slightly. _Wow… he's good. _The man had successfully wiped out any of the other questions Ed had planned to throw at him. The boy floundered for a moment and watched a smug glint enter Jason's eye. The man knew he'd won. Finally, Ed nodded with as much authority as he would muster. "Alright, you pass. You have my approval. But I'm telling you right now, Jason Bernard, if you ever hurt her…" he poised his hands to clap but he never got the chance.

"You'd better not even _think_ about transmuting that automail, Edward Elric!"

"Eh… heh… you get the idea, right?" Ed finished, trying to save face.

Jason smiled and offered his hand to shake. "Yeah, Sport. I get it. Don't worry. If I ever hurt her, I'll _let_ you pound me."

"Deal."

Their handshake started out firm and serious but quickly devolved into a miniature arm wrestling contest, then a fist bump, and then a high five.

"Oh! You found them!" Suddenly, Winry was sitting on the table next to her fiancé, with Ed's foot squashed between them. The two books Jason had brought with him were settled in her lap.

"Hey, Winry, do you think you could put my leg back together?"

The mechanic gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ed. I completely forgot."

"I noticed."

"I'll get right on it. Here you can look at these while I work." Abruptly, she dropped the books in his lap and he grunted under their sudden weight.

"Um… okay. What are they?" He looked at the non-descript cover of the first book without opening it.

"Photo albums." Winry didn't say anymore as she picked up a screwdriver and started reattaching the plates she'd removed.

Ed didn't need her to say anymore. There was only one reason Winry would have given him a set of photo albums. He knew what would be inside them now but he couldn't bring himself to open them. His heart thudded hard in his chest and it suddenly hurt to breath.

"Well… are you going to open it?"

His father's voice broke the spell and Ed gasped for air as he smoothly turned the cover over to reveal the first page… and he could have sworn he felt his heart stop.

There was only one picture on that page. It was yellowed with age but the lines were still clear and the colors still stood out against the white backdrop of the album. In the photo... three children stood together, or rather, two were pulled in close by the third. They couldn't have been older than four or five.

Ed recognized himself, both from the distant past and from more recent photos that Roy and Riza had taken of him over the years. He'd aged much the same as he had before, his missing arm and leg being the only real difference.

Winry's childish face was a far more distant memory for him – barely there amidst all of the other recollections he'd had of her. Her hair was much shorter then, more manageable for her parents that way. Her eyes were just as bright though and her smile filled with teasing innocence. This was the best friend he had known once upon a time.

But his eyes were primarily drawn to the third figure in the photo – a boy with sandy yellow hair and golden eyes, a kind smile and surprised posture. Ed could almost hear the delighted laughter ringing through his ears, taking him back to a time long ago when things had been so much simpler.

"Al…" He whispered as his fingers hovered over the image. He wouldn't touch, for fear of damaging the picture, but he came as close as he could to the face of his lost little brother.

The room fell silent. Even Winry stopped her tinkering to look up and watch, waiting for his reaction. There wasn't much of one. Ed had become lost in rememorizing the lines of his brother's face, the color of his eyes, the shape of his smile. He didn't linger on any one emotion long enough to muster a visible response. Sadness, longing, nostalgia, joy, pain, worry, humor, love… he felt them all at once and one at a time and he didn't notice when a single tear rolled down his cheek and caught on the edge of his bittersweet smile.

"May I see?" His mother sat down next to him and gently placed her hand on his arm, drawing him out of his reverie. Ed looked up at her and then back down at the album before nodding.

"Um, yeah." He tasted salt and hurried to wipe away the trail that had been left on his cheek, pretending that no one had noticed. Then he nudged the book to the side a little so that his mother could see better. On his other side, his father leaned in close to see as well.

Riza smiled. "You three look so happy together."

"You look exactly the same as you did when you were five." Roy commented. "I'm pretty sure you had a shirt just like that you were little."

"I was five in this picture… right Winry?"

"Yup - just turned!" the mechanic was focused once more on his leg but she nodded, smiling. "My dad took that picture at your birthday party. As for the shirt…"she looked up at the General. "I'm pretty sure it's the same one. It was in that box of clothes I sent you, wasn't it?"

Ed watched as his father thought for a moment and then nodded. "Wait! Are you saying I used to wear clothes that I… used to wear…?" he decided to ignore the fact that his question sounded stupid – there wasn't any other way to word it. "That's just weird."

"How is it weird?" his dad tugged on the sleeve of his red coat. "You're still wearing this old thing aren't you?"

Ed brushed the offending hand aside and rolled his eyes before turning to look at his mother, who was still gazing intently at the picture. "What'cha looking at, Mom?"

She shook her head as though to clear her thoughts. "Just marveling at how similar you two boys looked."

Ed opened his mouth in a soft gasp, realizing. "That's right… you've never saw Al before the armor. You didn't even know what he looked like."

"I saw a few pictures on the cork board when the Roy and I first came looking for you boys, but I didn't really get the chance to look and it was so long ago. We met you both so briefly then and by the time you came to East City, Alphonse had been in the armor for a full year. I knew, intellectually, that he was only a boy. But it's always been difficult to picture him that way. The photograph helps."

"You'd probably get a better idea with some of the later pictures." Winry pointed out. "The ones in the back of that album show the boys when they were nine and ten. I think the last one was taken just after they got back from their training in Dublith. The second album contains pictures from after Ed became a State Alchemist."

Ed blinked. "Oh? Where'd you get those?"

The mechanic looked up, thoughtfully tapping her chin with the end of her screwdriver. "Well, I took some of them during the times I was with you in Central and during our trip to Rush Valley. Then there are a couple of newspaper clippings, although the photos aren't very good. I got a few pictures from Lieutenants Havoc and Breda. But I think most of them came from Gracia."

"_Aunt_ Gracia? Why would she…?"

"Because Hughes loved taking pictures." Roy answered – a mischievous grin audible in his voice. "I have got to see these." Before Ed could respond, his father had snatched the second album from beneath the first and opened it to reveal the first picture – a copy of the team photo Ed had found in his father's study not long ago.

The next ten minutes were spent slowly perusing both albums. Winry had finished with Ed's leg and was leaning forward, eagerly explaining certain scenes in the first album. Roy was busy sharing his own story about the time thirteen-year-old Fullmetal got covered in soot in a backfired attempt to prank his superior officer – a moment Hughes had happily caught on camera. Ed didn't actually remember enough about the event to feel embarrassed about it and found himself laughing along with the story. He was torn, though, between the two albums. He tried to keep up with both his parents as they turned the pages and paused to hear or tell stories. Ed wanted to hear all of the stories but he also wanted the chance to peruse the pictures on his own and allow his own memories to return with them. He couldn't blame his parent's enthusiasm for the photos but he also couldn't help the twinge of selfishness he felt at the forced sharing time.

Winry had pretty much taken control of one album while his father delightfully kept possession of the other. Ed sunk back in his seat as the voices around him rose in volume, competing to be heard above each other. He shut his eyes and tried to tune it all out. The day had been too long – the whole weekend had been too long. He was ready to go home but there wasn't going to be another train until tomorrow. He felt bad for making his parents miss more work and a little less bad for missing school. He was tired. He hadn't really slept at all the night before and any rest he may have had on Saturday night had been destroyed by horrible dreams and his subsequent desiscion to run away to Resembool – admittedly, not his best idea. His heart was still hurting from the memories he'd regained, although his parents words and support _had _helped. Visiting with Winry had been beneficial too. But he was really too exhausted, both physically and emotionally, to put up with this much longer.

Maybe it was because he was so tired that his brain picked up on a few of his father's words and got stuck, turning them over and over again in his mind like some skipping record.

"I don't think I'd recognize him at all if he somehow got his body back."

_Body back… don't think I'd recognize… somehow got his body… what is he talking about? _Ed tried to put the words into context – to remember what the conversation was about now. It had changed at some point. It was quieter now. Had he fallen asleep? He wasn't sure. _If he somehow got his body back… recognize… recognize who?_

He cracked one eye open and peer around. The room was noticeably darker – now only lit by the lamps on the side tables. The windows were dark, indicating that the sun had gone down. He wasn't sure what time it had been when Jason showed up with the albums. Given the time of year, the sunset didn't necessarily indicate that it was that late. It could have only been six or seven. But then, it could also have been midnight. Ed didn't think so though, since everyone was still sitting in relatively the same positions he last remembered seeing them in and they were still looking at the albums – one of them anyway. Ed noticed that the second album was now sitting on the coffee table beside Jason. The first one, however, was still spread across his mother's lap and partially resting on his own automail leg. It was flipped open to what seemed to be the last page.

There was a picture of him and Al, taken not long before their attempt at human transmutation. They were older and stronger, having just returned from their training with teacher. Ed had his arm wrapped around Al's shoulder, tugging him close in something that wasn't quite a hug but was as close as he could get without seeming mushy. They were both smiling widely.

_I don't think I'd recognize him at all if he somehow got his body back._ The sentence repeated itself in his mind over and over as he squinted at the photo through one eye. _He's talking about Al_. Ed finally realized.

And then, with the force of a light bulb going off in his head, he sat up straight and his sleepiness scattered like cockroaches. "That's it!"

The four adults in the room looked at the boy like he'd suddenly lost his mind. "Ed? Are you okay?" His mother asked, concerned.

"I'm fine! I'm better than fine. I've figure it out! At least… I think so. Dad!" he spun to face his father. "The case file, the notes, the report!" he didn't have to specify which report he was talking about. "They're looking for the wrong person!"

The General frowned. "What do you mean? They're looking for Al."

"Yes! No… I mean, yes they are looking for Al but they're not _really_ looking for _Al_. They're just looking for a suit of armor. They don't have a clue what he actually looks like. It's like you said – even you wouldn't recognize him if he somehow got his body back."

"But he didn't…" His father's words were slow, but the man was nodding as he said it, jumping on board with Ed's train of thought. "Except…"

"What if he did?!" Ed finished. He was almost out of breath with his sudden burst of excitement and had to force himself to calm down a little before he continued. "We don't know what happened to Al. We don't even know what happened to _me_. All we know for sure is that I somehow got turned into a baby? What if that was the price I paid to get Al's body back or something… not that… okay, so I have no idea how that would be considered equivalent exchange but that stupid gate is really weird about what it decides to take from who and why. For all we know, Al could have been turned into a baby too."

Roy shook his head. "No, he would have been found – if not by me than by the search teams I sent out to 'find' you. Or one of the train yard workers would have reported finding him when the investigation started."

"What if he wasn't found by a train worker? What if he was found by a stranger who just happen to be passing through and didn't know anything about the investigation. Al could have been taken to a children's home and you never would have known – you weren't looking for another baby. Al could have been right under our noses this entire time."

"Or he could be on the other side of the country." His father interjected. "By that same line of thinking, this 'stranger' could have just decided to keep Alphonse and taken him far away. Or maybe he didn't get turned into a baby at all. Maybe _Al_ got his body back and stayed the same age he already was which would make him, what? Twenty-six, now?"

"_Exactly_." Ed emphasized. "We could sit here and talk what if's and maybe's forever, but my point is that Al _could _be human and that opens up a whole new realm of possibilities for finding him. There are so many more options we haven't even begun to look in to. All those dead ends don't matter anymore. I'll start fresh and check every avenue, poke every theory until I know for sure. It may take me a while, but I'm positive that I _can _find my brother." He glanced over at Winry and smiled. "And when I do, I'll keep that promise I made twelve years ago. You'll be crying tears of joy, Winry. Just wait."


	19. in which a hero falls

**A Boy Named Ed**

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

* * *

**A.N. ** Just so you know, there is a little time jump here. We're gonna move forward a couple of months to get the ball rolling but I'll try to summarize what's happened in the meantime. Also, a little more drama in this one and lot's of Parental!Roy.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

* * *

**Chapter 19, in which a hero falls**

Ed's muscles were burning with exertion, fueled by adrenaline, as he ducked away from another blow. Grinning wildly, he spun and aimed a kick high towards his opponent's left shoulder. The man was taller than him but Ed was faster – stronger too, in some ways. After all, Ed was fighting with automail. The metal of his arm and leg could knock someone out if he didn't pull his punches.

It had been over six months since his surgery; almost five since his memories had started returning. He'd remembered a lot in that time, discovering little details of his previous life every day. It hadn't been without its trials. Some of his memories were terrifying or heart wrenching. He had to work through each event a little at a time and accept the fact that those things were long past – nothing could be done about them except to learn from them and move on.

_Keep moving forward_. The words had become a mantra for him whenever things got really bad. There were times he considered running away again – times when his own sense of self-worth fell below the levels that anyone would deem healthy. He hadn't run though, if only because he knew they'd just come after him. It was easier just to lock himself in his room for awhile. His parents gave him his space so long as he came out for meals and went to school. They waited for him to go to them, knowing that they could not force him to accept the comfort he wasn't ready to receive. So they gave him three days. If he didn't come out of whatever funk he was in by that point, his dad would transmute the bedroom door open, drag him out by his ear, and shove him in the car. Then they'd drive him to the Malt Shoppe and sit him down in front of a tall glass of cherry flavored soda. They never said anything while he sipped at the pop. They just sat on either side of him with those looks of support and confidence on their faces. By the time he finished his soda, he always felt just a little bit stronger.

After their third trip to the Malt Shoppe together, Ed started asking to go whenever he started feeling down. It helped. They helped. He still kept a lot of what he remembered to himself. There were so many private memories – special moments between him and his brother, his mother… but he shared what he could, especially the memories he had of the Colonel and Lieutenant back in the day. It was fun to reminisce together over the happy memories. Winry's photo albums certainly helped with that. He sometimes spent hours staring at the photographs and allowing the surrounding memories to gradually return.

As time went by, Ed made a lot of headway into the three main tasks he'd set before himself.

With his parents help, he had managed to piece together a coherent timeline for his memories. More and more things were falling into place now. He could line up any new memories he regained with what he already had and that jigsaw puzzle was finally starting to reveal a bigger picture.

His investigation into Al's disappearance was still slow going. So far, the only thing Ed knew for certain was that his brother was not in Central City. Whether he was in his own body or still in the armor, whether he was an adult or a child – he wasn't there. Ed had checked the orphanages and the schools, searching for any boy with gold hair and eyes. He didn't place his bets on the chance that, if his brother was a child, he would still go by Al. Whoever found him would have given him a different name. So he focused on the physical description. He'd checked the city census at the library for anyone named Al or Alphonse between the ages of twenty and thirty. His father had suggested it was possible that Al changed his name – his surname at the very least since Elric was so well known in Central. Ed was betting that Al would have at least kept his nickname because he couldn't imagine him willingly going by any name but Al. Yet none of the seven men he'd found had turned out to be his brother.

But that was just in Central City and Ed didn't really think an adult Al would still be there and not have come looking for him. No, Al was likely in another city somewhere – hopefully not in another country – and Ed had a plan for finding him. In less than a month, school would be out for the summer and Ed knew exactly how he was going to spend his vacation.

His third task was what led him to this moment – sparring with his father in the back yard after dinner. He was already in better shape than he'd ever been before as Ed Mustang but he wanted to make sure he was in top form and Roy Mustang was more than happy to oblige. It had become something of a competition between them. His father, having always relied on his alchemy in battle situations, hadn't had a lot of actual experience in hand-to-hand combat beyond what he'd learned at the Military Academy. Additionally, the General spent most of his time behind a desk and did very little field work, leading to a deficient amount of physical training beyond keeping relatively fit. Therefore, what had started out as a bit of exercise to help and support his son had become something of a personal challenge for the Flame Alchemist as he sought to make sure the ever improving twelve-year-old didn't out fight his old man.

So they sparred at least three times a week, usually after dinner before returning to whatever work they hadn't completed during the day. It was a good outlet for both of them, as well as an interesting bonding experience. Their "battles" were wrought with personal jabs and inside jokes which could only be understood in the context of Ed as both Elric and Mustang. As father and son, they made a pretty good team and Ed couldn't help but imagine how they might work together in a real battle, against a common opponent.

Ed blocked another strike and then used his father's knee as a spring board to launch himself into the air and back-flip several paces away. His dad scowled at the show-off move. Ed's aerial acrobatics were something the older alchemist could never hope to master.

"Alright, Fullmetal Monkey, this isn't a circus."

Ed laughed and clapped his hands together. In a flash of light, three large rings rose up from the ground around them – not very tall, little more than something to trip over, but they gave the vague impression of a three ring circus. "Now it is."

"No alchemy, Ed." His father used the time it took Ed to stand back up to rush in close and make a grab for the boy's arm.

Ed saw the advance and dropped, rolling out of the way and regaining his feet in one smooth motion. He held up his hands in defense. "I wasn't using it to fight. Just changing up the playing field a little."

"Well you'd better change _back_ the playing field before your mother catches you messing up her yard."

That was another thing Ed had been practicing during the past few months. Since he'd regained his memories of the Gate, he'd also regained his ability to do alchemy without a transmutation circle. For a while, he'd been hesitant to use his re-found skill. He'd used it twice in Resembool, but after returning home he'd been unsure of himself. Always before, alchemy was something he did with his dad – for safety and because it was tradition. But now, safety wasn't really an issue. He knew enough about alchemy to not make any stupid mistakes. It was the tradition part that held him back. They had always put a lot of time and effort into their joint creations. There was something to be said for the careful process that went into devising theories and codes and drawing a perfect transmutation circle. Now it seemed almost too easy to just clap his hands and make things happen.

It wasn't until his father came home one day to find Ed in the kitchen sweeping up shards of a broken glass that the matter was finally discussed.

"Why don't you just fix it, Ed?" He'd questioned.

"With alchemy? I… thought I'm not supposed to do that without you." Ed had put the matter in his father's hands. Letting the older man decide on any rule changes was easier than having to choose for himself.

Roy had seemed surprised by his son's reminder of the old house rule. "That… was before. Things are different now, Ed. You know that. I mean, you can do alchemy without a circle, now. It would be silly for me to keep imposing a rule like that on you."

Ed had nodded and chewed on his lip for a moment before voicing his worry. "Does that mean… I mean… we can still do alchemy together, right?"

His father had smiled knowingly. "Anytime, Son."

Of course, there was still a rule which forbid the use of alchemy during their sparring sessions. After all, their purpose there was to improve overall fitness and physical skill, not to become masters of combat alchemy.

Ed, not wanting to incur his mother's fury, swiftly ducked to restore the yard to its former state. He knew, of course, that his father wouldn't pass up the chance to cut in close for another swing – no timeouts in a battle after all. Anticipating the move, he flipped backwards to dodge a kick and then, rising, moved out of the way of a left punch… and directly into the right swing he hadn't seen coming on his other side.

The blow glanced off his cheek bone, not too hard, but enough to send him spiraling backwards into a rough landing on the grass.

_Stone… he fell against the hard stone, his jaw throbbing from the unexpected strike._

"Shit! Ed, are you alright?" His father's worried voice sounded behind him as Ed pushed himself to his knees. He raised his left hand to rub at his still stinging cheek.

"I'm fine." He shook his head. Still dazed from the sudden blow, it was difficult to focus on either the present or the strange flashback occurring in the back of his mind.

_A fist, gloved in white ignition cloth, connected sharply with his left cheek, forcing him backwards onto the cobblestone pavement._

_The smell of charcoal assaulted his nose, burnt flesh and hair. _

_Anger… betrayal…_

He breathed heavily, willing his heart to stop racing and the world to stop spinning around him. He could feel himself coming down from the adrenaline rush far too quickly. He was crashing and finding it difficult to regain control.

"Let me see, Son." A larger hand reached out to pry his fingers away from his face. Ed winced and shied away from the touch before realizing who it was. He looked up into his father's concerned eyes, only to find them juxtaposed with a vision from the past.

_Cold, hard, black eyes narrowed in displeasure – he'd seen that look before, but never directed at him, never like that. _

He gingerly lowered his hand and allowed his father to tilt his chin up for a better look. "It's fine. You just nicked me."

His words didn't stop the guilty grimace that lingered over his father's mouth. "I'm sorry, Ed. I thought for sure you saw that coming."

"It was my fault. I got too cocky." It wasn't like it was the first time one of them had been hit while sparring, but most of their blows were intentionally aimed away from the face. It was just an accident. "Too busy messing around with circus circles." He tried to smile but his face hurt too much

_A red circle, stitched on the back of a white ignition glove._

_A burnt corpse, still smoldering._

_A silver bracelet._

Ed pushed the visions away and tried to focus on the present. He tried to ignore the harsh sting of betrayal that was making it difficult to breathe. It didn't make any sense. It was still too jumbled. Another harsh memory. He'd have to work through it piece by piece.

"Catch your breath, Ed. I'll go get you some ice for that bruise." His father stood and turned away, heading back into the house. Ed watched him go, but the inviting glow of the porch light, casting a silhouette around his father's form and a shadow upon the grass, was replaced by a dark alleyway lit only by some cold, distant street lamp. The figure walking away should have been the same, but the man in his memory wasn't the father he knew and loved.

The man in his memory was a murderer.

_Dad…?_

* * *

"I'm gonna go finish my homework." Ed informed his parents as he finished putting away his dinner dishes.

Roy looked up from the sink, surprised. "It's Wednesday, Ed. Aren't we going to spar?"

The boy just shook his head. "I've got a lot of work to do. Finals are coming up."

"Okay…" Without another word, Ed left the kitchen. Roy watched him go, still perplexed. Ed very rarely passed up one of their sparring sessions. "That's the second time this week." He muttered to himself.

"Hmm?" Riza had finished wiping the table and come over to stand next to her husband.

Roy turned back to the plate he was washing. "It's nothing. Just… has Ed seemed a bit distant to you this week?"

"Not that I've noticed. He seemed fine this afternoon. He was telling me about another one of his childhood adventures in Resembool while he was helping me with dinner. Why? Did something happen?"

"No, just… he seems off, somehow. Not depressed but…" He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm imagining things."

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder and he turned to look into his wife's perceptive eyes. "Is this because he doesn't want to spar tonight?"

"Not just tonight. He didn't want to spar on Monday either."

"He's studying."

"Since when has Ed needed to study?"

"Apparently, _A Midwinter Daydream_ has been giving him some difficulty."

"Wilhelm Bard? They're making first years read Bardian plays?"

"Ed says it's like trying to read a code that doesn't follow any rules and is constantly changing."

"He's got that right. I don't know how they can expect anyone to understand sixteenth century Cretan humor." Roy sighed, accepting the fact that he just wasn't going to get to spend much time with his son until finals were over. Of course, his wife knew him too well and he caught her knowing grin. "What?"

"You miss him."

Roy tried to deny it. "That's ridiculous. He was just in here eating dinner with us. Why would I miss him?" He caught the warm hand that came up to rest against his cheek and smirked when his wife smiled softly. He'd been caught in his lie.

"You haven't had any one-on-one time with your son this week. You get grumpy when you're missing him. Give him an hour to study and then take him out for a soda. It'll do you both some good."

Taking his wife's advice, Roy retreated to his own study to finish some paperwork for the prerequisite hour and not a minute more. He was pleased, upon entering his son's room with a soft knock, to find that the boy had also finished his work and was lying on his bed, perusing one of his photo albums again.

"Hey, Kiddo. There's a cherry soda at the Malt Shoppe that is just calling your name."

Ed glanced up for only a moment before diverting his eyes back to the album page. He shook his head. "No, thanks."

"You sure? We could get ice cream if you'd rather."

"I'd rather not go anywhere. It's late and it's a school night." The boy turned a page and proceeded to ignore his father's presence in the room.

Roy frowned and stepped further into the room. "It's only seven o'clock. Are you feeling alright, Son?"

Ed ducked away from the hand reaching out to feel his forehead. "I'm fine. I just don't feel like going out tonight." He snapped the book shut and stood up to put it back in its place on his shelf.

"Okay…" Now Roy was sure that something was wrong. The boy had been hiding it well, trying to keep his voice even and his tone neutral, and maybe that's what gave him away. It was too forced and Roy was too practiced at reading his son's efforts to hide something. The kid was a horrible liar anyway.

"What's wrong, Son?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Ed froze with his hand still raised next to the book shelf. "Nothing." He bit the word out through his teeth. It was strange. Ed's moods weren't normally so… grating. His recent mood swings had been marked by a sullen and dull attitude. He'd seemed almost lifeless at times. Now he was full of life and fire but it was… wrong, somehow. Roy wasn't sure what to make of this new demeanor which had yet to fully manifest itself.

"You know you can talk to me, Ed. Whatever it is –"

Ed spun around suddenly, his golden eyes glowing with some fierce emotion his father had trouble placing. "I don't want to talk to _you_! And I don't want to go anywhere with you either!"

Roy was taken aback by the vicious tone and the particular emphasis placed on the word _you_. Suddenly, it dawned on him just what that particular fire in his son's eyes meant.

"You're angry." He'd seen his son get mad before but this was something else. At the moment, the boy reminded Roy of an over-heated furnace, ready to explode… and something else too. There was something else hidden behind that fire – a look which Roy could not quite identify but found to be painfully familiar nonetheless. What's more – it was all directed at him. "You're angry with me."

Ed's eyes widened. Realizing he'd given himself away, he backtracked quickly. "N-no, I'm… I'm just tired and… stressed. School's been –"

"No." Roy shook his head, disregarding his son's attempts to cover up the truth. "You're mad me. Why?"

The boy clammed up. He averted his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What did I do, Ed?" Roy wracked his brain for anything over the past few days which would have given his son cause to be mad at him. There was nothing. He'd hardly seen the boy apart from mealtimes. It struck him now that Ed had barely spoken to him in days. What words the boy did say in his presence had primarily been directed towards both parents. Roy hadn't taken too much note of it before. Sometimes life got in the way but that was why they set aside certain times to spend together. Except that they hadn't this week. School and work had kept them both busy and they hadn't sparred since… Saturday. Roy recalled the small accident which had occurred during their last sparring session. He still felt bad for hitting his son but… _That couldn't be it. That was day's ago. It's already healed. _It was true. The small bruise which had formed on the boy's cheek had been mostly gone by Monday morning. It really hadn't been that bad. But… there wasn't anything else that Roy could think of. He hadn't been around his son enough in the past few days to have anything else happen between them.

"Is this because of Saturday, Ed?" He finally decided to ask, just to be sure. "Because I hit you while we were sparring?"

Ed glanced at him and, for a moment, Roy thought he'd gotten it right. But then his eyes narrowed and turned away once more. "No. Don't be stupid. That was an accident. I'm not mad at you."

"Then why won't you look at me?" Usually those words would be all it took for Ed to look him in the eye, no matter what the problem was. That little act of defiance was something the boy had started at a very young age, as if to say _don't you dare imply I'm too weak to look at you! _He tried now. He lifted his chin and settled his stance but, in the end, the boy couldn't do it. His gaze flitted around Roy's face for a moment before darting off to the side and down to the ground once more.

Standing, Roy moved to place his hands on his son's shoulders but Ed stepped back.

Releasing a heavy sigh, the father ran his fingers though his hair in frustration. "Talk to me, Ed. I can't fix it if you won't tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." The stubborn boy muttered.

This was getting ridiculous. Roy couldn't for the life of him fathom what had turned his son against him in this way. But it was like a wall had been built between them, without alchemy this time. _It doesn't make any sense. I haven't… unless…_

"Are you mad at me or is Fullmetal?"

If Ed hadn't been angry before, he certainly was now. He glared fiercely and snarled, "I'm the same person!"

Roy winced and wished he'd thought to word his question better. Ed hated being treated as two separate people. It was confusing enough for him as it was. He wasn't either/or. He was both.

"Alright, I'm sorry." Roy struggled to correct his mistake. He didn't need the boy mad at him for two things. "You know what I mean. Is this about something that happened recently or is it a memory?"

Ed's silence wasn't really a confirmation but Roy didn't have anything else to go on at the moment. Besides, it seemed far more likely that he'd done something to Fullmetal years ago which was coming back to haunt him now than that he'd somehow, unintentionally hurt his son without his knowledge.

"What did you remember, Ed?"

He'd hit the nail on the head. The boy's jaw clenched tightly together obstinately refusing to say anything. It was a battle of wills and Ed, realizing that he would lose, finally turned on his heal and headed for the door.

For once, Roy was faster. He step forward and slammed the door shut before his son could leave. "No! You're not running away from this one, Edward."

"I don't want to talk about it!" For anything else, that might have worked. Ed knew his parents wouldn't force him to talk about his private memories. But this time it was different.

"This isn't about your mother or you brother, this time. Whatever this is, it's between you and me. If something I did over twelve years ago was horrible enough for you to be mad at me about it now, I think I deserve to know what it is."

Roy tried to meet Ed's eyes but the boy kept them averted, pointedly looking anywhere but his father. It was a strange sort of avoidance though. Ed wasn't trying not to see his father's eyes. He was trying to keep his father from seeing his. Whenever Roy did manage to catch a brief glimpse of those golden irises, all he could see was a stubborn, angry fire and something else. It was that something else which Ed didn't want him to see. Roy was sure of it.

"Ed. Please. Whatever this is… it's probably just a misunderstanding. Maybe you're not remembering correctly or… something. I don't know. I can't imagine what I could have done to make you this angry with me."

There was a moment, a beat in time when nothing seemed to move or breathe and then Ed's eyes were locked with his own. "A misunderstanding?" The fire had dimmed, replaced by something else, something Roy did recognize – hope. Desperate hope. And Roy realized suddenly why his son didn't want to tell him.

Ed wanted to be wrong. He desperately wanted whatever memory had been plaguing his mind to be somehow incorrect in a way that none of his memories had been so far. He wanted his father to explain the mix-up and set everything straight. And Roy suddenly found himself worrying about what might happen if he couldn't do just that.

"W-what if it's not…?" His son was scared and that scared the Flame Alchemist. Because he knew that he'd have to tell the truth. He needed to either confirm or deny whatever vision had conjured itself into Ed's mind. And if it was as bad as Ed was making it out to be, Roy really hoped he could deny it.

"We won't know until you tell me."

Ed moved over to his bed and sat down. He scooted back against the headboard and pulled both knees in close to his chest. The position was defensive, guarding his heart physically, although it would do nothing to help him emotionally. He gnawed on his lower lip to the point where it started to crack and bleed. Roy wondered how many days he'd been worrying at it like that. Finally, the boy took a deep breath and met his father's eyes once more with a look that said _I trust you. Don't let me down._

"Maria Ross."

The name was muttered so quickly that Roy almost missed it but, when his brain finally caught up with his ears, he wished he had. Those two words were all it took to send Roy spiraling back in his own memory to that one night, that perfect plan – perfect save for one unexpected variable.

_He shouldn't have been there. He shouldn't have seen that. I shouldn't have had to… _But he did have to. Because from the moment Fullmetal ran into that alleyway, it was already too late. Those betrayed eyes were locked upon him, desperately trying to understand, desperately searching for answers – answers the Colonel couldn't give without blowing the whole mission.

He'd been cold. He'd been worse than cold. He'd been downright cruel to the boy. Hitting him, casting him aside like some piece of unwanted rubbish. He'd thrown those hated words around like irrefutable facts, desperately wishing that somehow the boy would see through his lie. But his act had been too perfect – it had to be. And for the rest of the night, Roy had been forced to stand under that heated gaze, burning with anger and betrayal and hatred.

Now that gaze was upon him again but the eyes were filled with a faltering hope. The longer Roy stood in silence, the more desperate those eyes became, begging, pleading him to say it wasn't true. But Roy could not deny the memory which was the cause of his son's distress. Nor could he simply explain the truth. _He needs to remember it himself._

This had been their rule from the beginning. Wherever possible, Ed was encouraged to remember things on his own. They wouldn't simply tell him things that were within his ability to grasp independently. In doing so, Ed was able to be more sure of himself, more grounded and centered, especially when it came to the more difficult memories.

This was a difficult memory. Ed needed to remember the rest on his own. The memories were there. Perhaps he'd already remembered the truth but had failed to put the events in the proper order. Ed had mentioned his trip to Xerxes before. Did he remember everything that was discovered there? Roy needed more details about what his son already knew.

"What do you remember, Ed?"

The boy began to shake his head, slowly at first, then faster as the hope faded from his eyes and was replaced by the looked he'd worn before, but without the anger. Roy recognized it this time. It was the same looked he'd seen on the night, so many years ago – the look which said _You betrayed me_.

"No… no, no, no. It's not true! You're supposed to tell me it's not true!"

Roy sighed, wishing he could break the rule they'd set and just tell the boy everything. But without actual memories to ground those facts as truth, doubt always had the chance to linger. Ed trusted his father, but that trust had already been broken by a memory he hadn't expected.

Sitting beside his son on the bed, Roy reached out to him. "You need to calm down, Son. Try to remember."

Ed pulled away from him and nearly tumbled off the other side of the bed in his efforts to get away. "Don't touch me! I don't know you! You're a m-murderer."

The accusation stung, even knowing that it was born from a misunderstanding, an incomplete memory. To hear those words from his sons mouth… Roy was forced to calm his own raging emotions. Anger, frustration, guilt, denial – but Ed was more important right now. He needed to focus on his son.

"You're not remembering everything."

"You're not denying it!? It's true, then?" Some part of Ed was still holding out some small hope, waiting for his beloved father to refute the allegation he had made.

"You need to remember –"

"No! I've already remembered! I saw you and I saw the body. It was practically charcoal! And you were just standing there like it was nothing. You didn't even care that she was dead!"

"Ed –"

"You _hit_ me! It wasn't an accident then. You did it on purpose because I got in your way! I tried to argue, to tell you it was wrong but you didn't care. All you cared about was your revenge and you didn't even get the right person! Lieutenant Ross didn't kill Mr. Hughes! She couldn't have!"

"I know." Those two words seemed to stop Ed in his tracks. He paused as if to reevaluate the situation before speaking again.

"You know… you knew then? But then why would you…?"

"What do you remember, Ed?" Roy asked again, prompting his son to think, think hard, remember. It was hard for him to stay in the room with the boy after hearing the scene retold from his point of view. It was hard to imagine the pain and betrayal Fullmetal must have felt back then – what his son felt now. He just needed Ed to remember the rest. Once he knew the truth, everything would be fine.

"I already told you what I remember. I remember you and Lieutenant Ross in the alley way. I remember fighting you. I remember Al coming to hold me back and you saying that soldiers follow orders and the officers that came to question us and Mr. Knox confirming that the body was hers. I remember everything!"

"What happened next?" Roy pushed a little further, hoping to spur the correct memories.

"What do you mean, 'what happened next'? What does it matter?"

"It's important. You're not remembering everything, Ed."

"Then tell me!" Ed reached out and grabbed Roy's hand this time, still hoping, still searching. "Tell me it's not true!" And his eyes said the rest. _I'll believe you. If you say it, I'll believe you. Just tell me._

Roy shook his head. "I can't do that, Son."

Ed dropped his hand like he'd been burned and turned away. "Because it is true." He muttered angrily. Anger seemed to be his fallback emotion now. It would certainly be easier to deal with than the rest.

"You know how this works, Ed. You have to remember on your own."

"No!" The boy spun around, his eyes burning with tears and brimming with cold fire. "I don't want to remember anymore! I don't care! I don't want to know anymore about a man who could kill an innocent woman out of some misplaced sense of vengeance. I don't know that man! I don't want to know him!"

"Son…"

"Don't call me that! Get out! Just get out!"

So Roy left. He knew there was no way to get through to his son like this. Ed wouldn't listen to him now – not without proof. But only his own memories could provide the evidence he needed.

Riza sat next to her husband in the hallway. She didn't need to ask. She'd heard enough. Somehow this would all work out. She held fast to that belief. They'd worked through everything else. This was just another small mountain they needed to climb on their journey towards happiness. But sometimes the cliff was too steep and sometimes it hurt to hang on. That was when Roy needed her the most. She'd be his strength tonight and tomorrow they'd face the next climb together.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair, as it had been for the past three nights. Riza's attempts at making conversation had been met mostly with short answers from either her husband or her son – never both. Occasionally, Roy would take up the challenge to speak directly to his son but he usually gave up quickly. It was simply too difficult for him to encourage that disheartened gaze to rise in his direction.

It wasn't really tension which hung in the air around them whenever they were in the same room together. It was more a sense of resignation – as though they'd both stopped trying and neither knew how to move past this point. Roy had come close to caving so many times – to just telling their son the truth about the events surrounding Maria Ross's 'murder.' But he'd stopped himself time and again for the same reason he hadn't just outright told Fullmetal the truth back when they event was actually taking place. Ed needed proof – words would not be enough no matter how much the boy argued that they would be.

The boy had pleaded with both of his parents to just tell him – mostly with Riza since he was having too much difficulty conversing with his father to actually ask anything of him. He was frustrated. His mother could see how much he longed to be able to forget that horrible memory and go back to the warm relationship he'd shared with his father not long ago.

During the day, at school and after when it was just him and his mom, Ed had seemed to be able to cast the troublesome thoughts aside. He laughed with his friends and shared stories with his mother, like usual. But from the moment Roy came home in the evening to the time they retired to their rooms, the boy said little, did little, and carried a heartbroken look about him when he wasn't glaring daggers at his father to deflect the pain within himself.

Movement to her left, drew Riza from her thoughts and she watched her husband stand, carrying his still full plate to the sink. "You haven't finished your dinner, Roy."

"I'm not hungry. I had a big lunch." Except that he hadn't. Riza had sat with him while he nibbled at his sandwich in the mess hall. He hadn't eaten much in days but she wasn't about to call out his blatant lie in front of their son. She'd confront him about it later. For now, she simply watched him leave the room.

And so did Ed. The look in his eyes was an odd conjunction of anger and longing. Riza was tired of seeing that look. This needed to end.

"Enough, Edward." The boy spun back around to face her, surprised at her tone. "How long are you going to let this go on? Are you really going to let one old memory destroy the close relationship you've had with your father for _twelve_ years?"

Ed stuck his fork into his mashed potatoes and squished them around harshly, as though they were to blame for his current state of mind. "I don't want to." He muttered. "I just feel like I don't know him anymore."

"He loves you, Ed. What more do you need to know?"

"I need to know why he would do something like that!" His voice rose in volume just a little as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "He's always talked about protecting people and helping others. He's always tried to be a good leader and to do what's right. It just doesn't make sense that he would do what he did to her."

Riza had to bite her tongue to keep from saying too much. She approached her argument from a different angle. "You've always held your father in high regard. You've placed him on a pedestal and you don't want to see him fall. But you know he's not perfect. You know what he did in Ishval and –"

"Ishval was different." He interrupted. "That was war. He was under orders to kill those people. And the other people he's killed have been criminals – _real_ threats to the public and to people he loved. But Lieutenant Ross didn't do what they accused her of doing. He knew that, even then. And I don't care if the orders _were_ shoot to kill if she resisted. He could have found a thousand ways to subdue her without doing… that. _No one_ deserves to die like that."

Riza watched as Ed's eyes lost focused and she could only imagine that he was reliving the scene yet again. How many times had those moments played through his mind?

"It's just not like him." The boy concluded, shaking his head. "It doesn't add up. It's doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't fit the image of the man you know." His mother spoke again. She kept her voice even – calming, guiding. "Because you _do_ know him, Ed. You know that he _wouldn't _just do what you remember him doing. There's a bigger picture that you can't see yet."

"Yeah, I get it! I'm missing something." The chicken on his plate suffered the wrath of his frustrations. "But seeing as how no one will tell me what it is I'm supposed to be remembering, it's not much help to remind me over and over. I _can't_ remember. I've tried. I've been trying all week. But I haven't had a new memory since this one started last Saturday. It's like the memory center of my brain decided to take a vacation without telling me… I wish it had taken this memory with it. I'd rather not know. I'd rather be blissfully ignorant than see a murderer every time I look at him."

"Your father is not a murderer, Edward."

"What else would you call it? She's dead isn't she? By his hand? For no reason other than revenge? That's murder, isn't it?"

"He isn't a murderer." Riza repeated herself firmly. "Keep trying to get those memories back. You'll understand."

"I already told, I _can't_. And even if I could – it doesn't make sense that there would be some little detail I'm missing that somehow makes this better. I've looked at this from every angle. _Nothing_ makes it better. Nothing changes the fact that he killed her."

Riza sighed and, standing, carried both of their unfinished plates to the counter. They'd be having leftovers for lunch tomorrow. She was at a loss as to how to continue. Ed didn't seem close to remembering the truth about Maria Ross. She got the feeling that his memories weren't returning because, somewhere in the back of his mind, he didn't want them to. He was scared – terrified of finding another skeleton in that closet like this one – frightened by the prospect of having his world turned on its end yet again.

What if he never remembered? Would Roy lose the relationship he had with his son forever? Would this wedge continue to come between them for the rest of their days? Or would they eventually just give in and tell him – taking the risk that he might one day come to doubt their words. No… there had to be another way.

Ed took his place at the sink and started rinsing the dishes as she washed. This year had been full of trials so far and it wasn't even half over. They'd faced one thing after another for several months and somehow manage to come out on top every time. This would not be where their winning streak ended. It couldn't be. Because losing what they had would crush both her husband and son.

"Do you still love your father, Edward?"

He paused in setting a glass on the rack to dry. The question seemed to catch him by surprise but he didn't hesitate in answering. "Of course I do."

Riza nodded and turned her focus to the knives and forks sunken in soap suds. "Then you will find a way to remember… or you will find a way to forgive him."

* * *

Studying for final exams wasn't supposed to be this hard – not for Ed anyway. He hadn't had this much trouble concentrating in class since his memories first started coming back in January. He tried to focus, tried to pay attention, tried to force his brain to ignore the errant thoughts which kept cropping up pertaining to a memory he didn't want to remember.

But it didn't seem to matter how hard he tried because his mind kept drifting back to the current situation at home. And it had been like this for days. He'd spent most of the weekend out of the house just to avoid the awkward silences between him and his father. He'd spent his time either at the library or the park or visiting with Kale and Bri. His best friends weren't really sure what was going on beyond that he'd had a fight with his dad. They didn't press for details, thank goodness, because Ed wouldn't have been able to give them. Of course, Bri and Kale seemed to have figured out that Ed was keeping a lot of secrets from them lately and had pretty much stopped pressing for answers to anything. Frankly, Ed was amazed they hadn't just abandoned him by this point but he was grateful they hadn't. They, at least, were able to distract him a little bit from the fight with his dad.

Ed really wished he could remember what it was his parents were waiting for him to remember. That was the key, after all. Somehow, that would make everything better. Of course, he could just go on faith with this one. He could trust that what his parents said was true – that there was something he was missing which somehow made his dad _not_ a murderer. If he could just run with that on blind faith and not worry about whether or not he actually remembered, then maybe he could just shrug this off and let it go and decide that it didn't matter.

Except that it did matter.

For twelve years, Roy Mustang had been his rock. The man was immovable, powerful, strong, firm, steady. He allowed nothing to derail him from his path. He stood upon high ground with good character and a solid moral compass. And Ed had clung to that rock since before he could remember… and before that even. He hadn't particularly _liked_ Colonel Mustang back in the day, but that had never stopped Ed from seeing the man as something of a hero – a pompous jerk of a hero but a hero nonetheless. When it came down to it, Roy Mustang was the only male role model Ed had during his previous adolescent years. As much as he would have denied it back then, he'd looked up to the man and subconsciously tried to emulate him.

And then, in a single instant, his idol had fallen. It wasn't just some little stumble either – no. In that one moment, the hero had become the villain. He'd gone somewhere that Ed couldn't follow and left the boy adrift in a sea of confusion and pain. He'd mourned the death of Lieutenant Ross that day. But to a greater extent, he'd mourned the loss of his hero. He'd hated the man for that. He'd turned away and vowed never to trust him again.

But that was when Roy Mustang had only been his superior officer.

Now… now Roy Mustang was his dad – his strength, his support, his guide, his mentor. Ed didn't like even letting himself_ think_ about it from that point of view. It hurt too much – more than it had the first time. His dad couldn't fall! He couldn't!

And then he found himself second guessing everything his father had ever done, doubting his promises, suspecting his words. And he hated feeling that way. He hated not being able to trust his father and he hated himself for his stubborn inability to conjure up the memories he needed to move beyond this point.

_What if I can't ever remember?_ That thought frightened him even more, because if he couldn't remember, he didn't think he'd ever be able to reconcile things with his father.

_Mom says I should try to just forgive him. But it's not that simple. I've already forgiven him… I think. I'm not mad at him for what he did anymore. It was too far in the past to really hold it against him now. I'm mad because… because this whole situation is so screwed up! It doesn't make any sense. And even if I can forgive him, that doesn't mean I can just forget. I _want_ to forget. I wish I didn't remember any of it. Then I could go back to trusting him completely and I wouldn't have anymore doubts. Forgiving him won't make me trust him again. Answers will though. That's why I need to remember._

_Or someone just needs to tell me…_ a bitter part of his mind added. He knew perfectly well why his parents weren't just telling him everything. But that didn't keep him from resenting it a little as more and more time went by without regaining the memory necessary to solving this problem.

It was a good thing their entire history class period had been dedicated to silent study today. He _looked _like he was studying at least. He had a book open in front of him. He was… pretending to take notes. In reality his paper was covered with absent minded transmutation circles he'd drawn without thinking. They were incomplete. He'd intentionally taught himself to draw them that way when he was 'doodling' so that he didn't accidentally set off a transmutation during class.

He turned a page in his book, just to keep up appearances. His mind was still a thousand miles away. But then his eyes caught something on the page – a timeline. He almost smacked himself in the head. He'd been so stupid! In the months he'd spent reconstructing his memories he'd learned how to fill in the gaps by putting everything in order and then fitting together the surrounding puzzle pieces until he was able to systematically deduce what was missing. He had a timeline for a reason. Why hadn't he thought to use it?

Of course, the journal he kept the timeline in was still on his desk at home. He'd have to work from scratch with what he had in his head. After tearing the transmutation doodle page from his notebook and shoving it into his bag, he started jotting down points on the clean sheet of paper.

_When did it happen?_ Logical and detached, he reminded himself. It wouldn't do any good to let his emotions get involved right now. He wouldn't think of the event itself – just everything surrounding it.

_It was after Mr. Hughes was murdered. That was the catalyst. I wasn't there when that happened though. I didn't find out until later because… I was in Dublith. Right, visiting teacher. _He wrote the word 'Dublith' down as a good starting point. _Okay… after that I went to Rush Valley again to get my automail fixed… and Winry hit me with her wrench. '_Rush Valley' found its way onto the page. _I met Ling and then Winry came back with me and Al to Central. _He started making bullet points after 'Central' to list finer details.

_We ran into Dad – the Colonel first. He wasn't Dad then. He told us Hughes was gone... but not dead… Shit! The bastard lied to us! What'd he do that for?_ Ed had to clamp down on his anger both to keep from voicing his profanities and to stay focused on the task at hand. _Moving on… Lieutenant Ross was the one who told us the truth. We went to see Aunt Gra – Mrs. Hughes and then back to the hotel. The next day we found out the Lieutenant Ross had been arrested and then… I remember running into the other armor-bound-soul chopper guy. He was with Ling and Lieutenant Ross. Ross ran off. I followed and then… _it_ happened._ He skipped over the memory as best he could. He'd relived it enough times recently. He didn't need to see it again.

_We went to the morgue and Dr. Knox confirmed that the body was Maria Ross._ He paused, struck by a sudden tangent. _Dr. Knox was Bri's grandfather. He was also my doctor when I was really little. Bri's dad took over after he died. But he and dad were old war buddies or something – from Ishval. But… at the morgue that day, he acted like he only knew the Colonel in passing. That's… weird. _He circled the note, not sure what to make of it but taking it as a point of interest just in case it would help.

_Alright. Then we went back to the hotel and… _he drew a blank. He wasn't really sure what happened directly after that. He didn't let it stop him for long though. He turned to a new page and started working backwards, from the end of the timeline instead.

_Okay, so this was like a month… two months? before I got turned into a baby. Before that I was back in Central. I had to be there for Dad to have sent me on that mission. _His memories from the days before his transformation were all but non-existent. The only clear memory he had from that time was the memory of being shot – which he assumed happened then since he couldn't place it at any other time – but he preferred not to think about that if he could get away with it.

_I know we learned about Bradley being a homunculus during that time. Ling got turned into Greed. Before that we were… swallowed. There was that shack outside the city where we were caring for Lan Fan. And we ended up there because of the trap I set to lure out the homunculi. Dad and the team helped with that some. They kept the mp's out of the way. We were working together and I was okay with it, mostly. Why was I okay with it? I should have been mad at him still. I shouldn't have trusted him. Which means… I must've learned whatever it was I need to remember now, before then. Come to think of it… Dad was at the shack to. He tried to stop me and Al and Ling from going to fight Gluttony by ourselves. He was really worried about us. But he couldn't fight because he was still recovering from his injuries._

Ed's almost gasped at the recollection. His dad had been hurt badly – nearly killed. It was the same fight that had paralyzed Havoc and destroyed a part of Al's armor. His mom had almost been killed that day too.

These weren't memories. He hadn't been there for any of those events. His parents_ had_ recounted that story for him since he only had vague recollections of the conversation which took place in the hospital after he got back from Xerxes. Other than a few important lines here and there, he could rarely remember the actual conversations he'd had with people in the past in any sort of word-for-word detail. Memories just didn't work that way.

_Wait… Xerxes?_ He rewound his thought process. _What was I doing in Xerxes? I remember going there… Correction; I remember being dragged there against my will. But what was the point? Major Armstrong was with me – the kidnapper – and Lieutenant Breda… Old Man Fu was there too. What were we doing there? We saw the ruins and that weird chunk of an ancient alchemic mural. And… _

"_Back East, where I was. It's a nice place… lot's of beautiful women."_

Ed almost shouted out loud as the memory hit him. He had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from doing so.

_A figure standing in the shadow of the ruins. A silhouette against the bright desert sun. A smiling face with short hair and a small mole under her left eye._

_Hah! She's alive! She's alive! Maria Ross is alive! Or she was – she is! She's alive! _He wanted to laugh, to dance, but he was barred from doing so by the restraints of his current, school setting.

_But how? _

It didn't make sense yet. He knew what he'd seen before, in Central, and that just didn't fit with what he saw in Xerxes. _Dr. Knox confirmed that it was her. So how could she be alive unless… _He flipped back to the page with the circled note over Knox's name. The pieces started rapidly falling into place – the old war buddy who just happened to be a mortician, the random kidnapping, the cold way his father had treated him so as to not blow his own cover… _It was a set up! A set up! Hah! He faked her death to save her life. That sneaky, rotten , genius!_

The bell couldn't have rung soon enough. Ed barely took the time to shove his things into his bag before he was out the door, ignoring the confused calls of his friends behind him – he'd explain later… as much as he could anyway.

The moment his feet hit the pavement outside the school, he was running. Technically, he was supposed to walk home today since both of his parents were working till close. He had no problem with walking, especially when the weather was so nice. It was a good work out for his muscles, especially as he continued to show vast improvement in his automail therapy. But he wasn't going home today.

He sprinted in the opposite direction, towards the heart of Central City. He barely stopped to look both ways before crossing streets. He leapt over obstacles and weaved in between other pedestrians. At one point he nearly knocked over a huge display of oranges but he caught himself just in time. Within five minutes, he could see the steps into Central Headquarters rising up to the dais above the city. He had to pause, much to his annoyance, and give his identification and purpose at the gate. Of course, being General Mustang's son had its perks. He was on an official visitors list allowing him to enter the premises during business hours at any time that wasn't considered a state of emergency, so long as he stayed in visitor approved areas. He wasted no time in ascending the stairs to the top and then he forced himself to slow to a brisk walk so as not to get in trouble for running through the hallways.

When he finally pushed through the door into General Mustang's outer office, he was out of breath and rather sweaty. But he beamed at the five faces that lifted up to acknowledge his entrance.

His mother frowned slightly, confused by his presence. "Ed?"

He met her eyes and nodded firmly; conveying silently all that needed to be said. Her frown faded quickly into a relieved smile and she nodded towards her husband's closed office door, responding in kind. _You can see him now, _were the words she didn't say.

Ed couldn't stop himself from running this time and he kicked the door in with a force reminiscent of his time as the Fullmetal Alchemist. Roy Mustang's head shot up and the man was on his feet in an instant, startled and looking about for a threat. But the only hazard that found him was the hundred and fifty centimeter tall blond boy who slammed into his chest and wrapped two arms tightly around his waist.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The General stood frozen, shocked by the sudden arrival of his son and the unexpected forceful display of affection. Ed's head was pressed firmly against his chest and the boy was still breathing heavily from his run. It only took Roy a moment to deduce what might-could have brought this on, but it was almost too much to hope for after the week and a half he'd spent avoiding his son's burning gaze. To feel the boy in his arms again… it was such a relief. His returned his son's embrace wholeheartedly, glad that the walls had been taken down. It was finally over.

Ed's breath came out in a shaky sigh of relief when he felt his dad return the hug. He'd missed those arms too much. This was his rock – steady and firm, unshakable, strong – stronger now than it had been before.

_I never should have doubted. You're still my hero, Dad. You always have been. _


End file.
